The Power of Love
by Elane217
Summary: It's Harry's 7th year and there's much to do if he's to save not only the Wizarding world, but the woman he loves. HPGW, RWHG. NOTE: Most of this was written before HBP so there will probably be some ambiguity, but it's still good!
1. Feild Meeting

A/N: I started writing this story _before_ HBP came out, so there are going to be a lot of little things that probably shouldn't be in here, but I still want them and I'm not willing to do a total overhaul on the story. You can't make me do it! I hope you enjoy anyway and as always R&R! Thanx

I do not own Harry Potter or anything remotely associated with him. It all belongs to JK Rowling, except some characters and the plot. Those are mine so - Hands Off!

* * *

Chapter 1 – Field Meeting

The Gryffindor common room had never been so crowded on a warm spring day. Today was a day unlike any other, however. Every chair and couch was filled; even some of the study tables had been transfigured into comfortable benches and drawn up around the large area rug. On the rug, in a place of honor, a small black box was the focus of ever person's attention.

"Come on, Seamus," cried Ron. "Can't you get that thing working any faster? It's going to be starting soon!"

Seamus looked up from the box that he was hunched over, his wand in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. "I'm working as fast as I can. It t'isn't easy trying to bootleg a wireless, you know?"

"Besides Ron," Ginny interrupted from her favorite chair by the fireplace. "The Harpies are just going to wipe the pitch with your beloved Canons - " Nearly every girl in the room and quite a few of the boys broke into cheers. "So, why put yourself through such agony, hmm?"

Ron jumped up from his seat on the sofa, daggers looking to shoot from his eyes. At the moment, one would have thought that Ginny and Ron were the greatest of enemies, not brother and sister.

In his bright orange t-shirt with two black Cs and a shooting cannonball on the front and a matching cap, Ron's unwavering devotion for the Chudley Canons was unmistakable. Ginny, on the other side, was in with the Holyhead Harpies – the only all-women team in the world. With her dark green jersey and golden talon necklace the colors, and the battle lines, were drawn.

"Oh. If that's so true, then why are we getting ready to start day four of the match? Answer me that."

She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "Have to give the crowd their money's worth, don't they? It'll be what? Another century before the Canons make it back to the championship."

"Why you - " Ron lunged forward for his younger sister, but was stopped by Hermione.

"I've had enough of this! Honestly, Seamus," Hermione pointed her wand at the speaker box. It glowed for a second and soon the announcer's voice was filling the room.

"Hello, I'm John Pepper and welcome back to Queerditch Marsh on this beautiful day of May. A light breeze is coming in from the south which makes it absolutely perfect weather for flying. Wouldn't you agree, Jake?"

"Indeed I would John. And soon both of our teams will be making their appearance on the pitch after their two hour time-out. I'm sure we can all agree they really earned it after those last twelve hours."

"Oh, who cares about all that? Just get back to the game," whined Ron. The feeling was echoed by a few others.

"Here come the Harpies. They have had an impeccable year. Undefeated in the regular season and now we're in the final match for the British League Championship. Besides the obvious athletic prowess that these ladies exude, they are all gorgeous. I don't think I've ever seen a lovelier group of witches."

"Right you are Jake, but don't let their beauty fool you. They all come with bite. Rumor has it that chaser Leila Buchanan has recently become engaged to a dragon tamer working in Romania."

"Well, we all knew it would take a real daredevil to get her to settle down. Which is the exact opposite of our crowd. They're all on their feet cheering on our Cinderella-team followed by the referee."

"Cinderella?" asked the other commentator.

"Yes, John. It's from a Muggle children's story. But back to the game. The captains are shaking hands. Our ref, Graham Llewellyn – grandson to the late "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn – has just opened the ball case once again. . . There's the whistle and we're off!"

"Su Ling with the quaffle, passes to Anora Sinclair - Oh, just missed by a bludger hit by Canon's beater Ian Carter as she does a reverse pass to Buchanan. She's now speeding towards the goal. And. . . Yes! It's good! That brings the score to six hundred seventy to five hundred forty Harpies and our seekers, Colleen Sinclair and Scott Habers still are giving no sign that they've sighted-"

"Wait! Sinclair has just gone into a dive and is being pursued by Habers. Nearly to the ground! Will they-"

The broadcast was interrupted by a loud blast of static. "NO!" cried Ron as he fell to his knees by the speaker.

The intro music to a news program was drowned out by the anguished and indignant cries of the teenage crowd.

"Hush, Ron," said Hermione, who had just turned the volume up.

"We interrupt this regularly scheduled program to bring you a breaking news update. Here's our reporter, Galan Martin, live outside the Ministry of Magic."

The room soon quieted and all were once again listening intently to the small speaker.

"I am standing outside of the press rooms, waiting for Minister of Magic Scrimegeour to arrive and begin the meeting. So far all we have been told is that a major conflict, which took place outside the village of Hogsmeade, has just ended. One of the Dark Lord's supporters, the Half-Blood Prince – as authorities are calling him at this point – has just escaped from a battle involving none other than the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter."

"Harry? But he's right over - " Ginny pointed to one of the window seats and saw that it was empty except for an abandoned roll of parchment.

"He was supposed to be keeping the bets. He better not cheat us later," said Dean Thomas.

"Oh, shut up, you worthless prat!" Ginny and Ron said together.

"Shh!" the others hushed collectively.

"Ah, here comes the minister. Wait, it seems to be press secretary, Gretchen Retseiko." The clicking of cameras, shuffling papers and bodies, and muffled talk all rose and fell in the background.

"Good afternoon," a woman's voice came across the wireless speaker. "Today we have had a display of the true power which the Dark Lord's supporters are capable of. Up until this point, we had no idea of what we were truly up against. The small, isolated attacks that we have endured this past year pale in comparison to the devastation wrecked in this single instance. The time has come for us to stop reacting and go on the offensive. We will take this war into our own hands and make our world a safe place for us to live in once more."

Cheering broke out through the assembled group and it was almost a full minute before the minister was able to continue.

"We shall be forming a new ministerial position, Minister of Defense. With this new department all of our efforts will be focused in the singular task to end the reign of terror of He-who-mustn't-be-named. We shall bring about the justice that so many are demanding and ensure the lives and welfare of all peoples. I would like to add that we will be searching, not only for the Dark Lord and his close supporters, but all those who aid and help to abate these traitors will find themselves being held to the same level of punishment in our criminal courts.

"Also it has been decided that in an effort to protect our nation's youth, Hogwarts School will be ending its academic year early. All of the students, with the exception of the fifth and seventh years, will be released later this week to return to their families. The other students will leave once they have completed their O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations." Both groans and quiet sighs of relief could be heard, and felt, in the common room.

"That is all the information we can disclose at this time. A special evening edition of The Daily Prophet will be sent out with greater details as they become available. Until then, I am highly urging that all citizens remain in their homes or businesses and maintain a state of constant vigilance. Thank you."

"Wait, Minister," one of the reporters called from the crowd. "Don't you have a statement from Mr. Potter?"

A laugh was heard through the reporters vying for attention. "Yes, as a matter of fact he did. He said that Ron Weasley owed Ginny a dozen chocolate frogs, and then was taken to be examined by the mediwitches."

The box glowed for a second and then with a definitive click the speaker turned off. Everyone sat in the silence while the tension and unease seemed to grow and consume the room.

"What do you do now?" asked a small first-year girl with tears glistening on her eyelashes.

"For now, we wait," Ginny said quietly as she stood up and sat next to her brother. "And don't forget to pay your debt, brother," she added mischievously. Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders affectionately.

"Dumbledore will say something about this at dinner," said Hermione. "After that we'll all know what we'll have to do. So, until then we have to act as though nothing has happened. I don't want to get in trouble for not closing down the betting pool and confiscating the wireless."

Ron laughed out loud. "'Mione, you really do know how to kill a mood sometimes."

* * *

The clouds drifted slowly in the night sky to reveal the moon in its final quarter. A chill began to fill the late June air as a wind came in from the north, and yet all was quiet . . . too quiet.

A quickening could be felt, as though the forest and everything within it was anticipating something. There was a silent gathering upon the edges of the forest. Hooded figures began to emerge out of the darkness to fill the clearing. Twenty. Thirty. Soon there were nearly fifty members gathered before a raised dais which had appeared in the field.

At the hour of midnight what the group had been anxiously waiting for happened. Their leader, Lord Voldemort - easily the most evil wizard in over a century - apparated into his place of honor. All eyes were focused with reverence and excitement at what was yet to come.

He stood on the platform his face hidden beneath his dark robes. In his stance the power that he held over his followers was evident; he was a man who knew he would never be challenged and would always be blindly obeyed. His red eyes glowed with malice and a dark purpose as a menacing smirk crossed his lips.

"Yes, my loyal ones," he began in barely more than a whisper. "Our long awaited ascendance back to power is fast approaching. Soon people everywhere will tremble and shudder in fear at the slightest mention of our cause." Voldemort's voice increased and his red eyes began to glow with a wicked gleam. "We shall rid our world of all those who dare to sully the sacred bloods of magic!" Applause erupted through the captivated audience.

"Now go, you know your tasks and what needs to be done. Bring me the joy of their defeat!"

Most of the assembled group left until there were but a handful left. They gathered close to Voldemort, awaiting further details to his diabolical plans. Among the small dais stood Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, McNair, and Voldemort's ever present shadow, Peter Pettigrew – now better known as Wormtail.

Voldemort now sat on a highly polished throne that had serpents carved in great detail and adornment winding back and forth up the armrests. "As you know, the attack upon the Ministry, while announcing our presence over a year ago, was a disaster! My best Death Eaters defeated by a handful of teenagers; and just a month ago one of our easiest chances to gain our rightful place was foiled by Potter alone. I do not intend for this to happen again. That is where the rest of you come into play. . ."

* * *

Harry shot up from the bed covered in a cold sweat. The lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead was throbbing out its warning. To anyone else this would have been cause for great alarm, but it was a familiar occurrence to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Through a personal attack from Voldemort as a baby he had gained his scar and along with it a personal connection to his greatest enemy. This was the only visions that Harry had had since the attack upon the Department of Mysteries. 'Dark plans abound in the dark of night' thought Harry.

He rolled over to see the bedside clock glowing 1:25. Voldemort had an hour's head start.

He was careful to get out of his small bed without any sounds. 'Wouldn't Uncle Vernon just love to have a real reason to yell at me for once?' Harry mused wryly as he sat down at his desk and pulled out a quill and ink and some sheets of parchment. He began to write out three separate letters: one to Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts' School and leader of the Order of the Phoenix, one to Remus – Harry's former teacher and closest link to his parents, and a final letter to Ginny Weasley, his best friend Ron's younger sister.

In each he recounted the detailed events of the vision and the feelings he had received from Voldemort through his scar's link. Ginny's letter, however, contained an extra paragraph.

Ginny, I know some of this (well, most of it actually) is scary and confusing, but I promise I can explain. I've been told that I need to spend at least a month with the Dursleys' and then I am moving into Grimmauld Place. I would rest a lot easier if you would come to stay with me for the remainder of the holidays at that time. I should have a plan for Voldemort's defeat by that time.

Love, Harry

Harry stared at the letter for a moment. He hadn't mean to write all that (especially the "love" part) but then he realize it was the truth.

WHOOSH! All of the air left his body only to be replaced by a twinge in his chest that hurt more than when he had fallen fifty feet off his broomstick during his third year. Who would have thought that the realization that he loved that fiery-haired girl would reduce a six foot one man to a mute, slack-jawed fool?

Yet, that was exactly what Harry feared he had become. Even though they had dated near the end of his sixth year, shortly after the attack in Hogsmeade he had broken off their burgeoning relationship in the hopes of keeping her safe. During their time together they had never told each other in words exactly how they felt; it was better that way, Harry had thought.

He thought about throwing away Ginny's letter and just forgetting all about this particular epiphany, but couldn't bring himself to do it. So much of his life had been filled with lies and deceit, loss and emptiness, and loneliness now was an opportunity to make that a thing of the past and change his future.

"If I can't even be honest with Ginny, what's the point?"

Hedwig stirred in her cage, as much at Harry's statement as the sight of the letters. Being cooped up day after day in a cage didn't sit well with her. Harry opened the cage door, tied the letters to her leg, and walked with her towards the window.

"Be sure and visit Dumbledore and Remus first. I'm certain Ginny will be glad to keep you for a week, until I can move out." Gently he stroked her neck and looked into her bright yellow eyes. "Keep an eye out for her, won't you?"

Hedwig nipped affectionately at his ear and flew off into the night sky.

Harry looked back to the illuminated clock. 2:30. "Only another three hours before Hell begins again,' Harry thought bitterly as he climbed back into bed and wished, unsuccessfully for sleep to claim him.


	2. Manic Mondays

Chapter 2 – Manic Mondays

The warm morning sunlight drifted in through the filmy curtains. Squares of light started to chase the shadows of night to the far corners of the room and bathed the sleeping form within the bed in an otherworldly, ethereal glow. A head full of tousled auburn curls turned on the pillow and the eyes in that smooth porcelain face twitched from the light and a persistent tapping upon the glass of the window. Unable to sleep through the blinding light any longer, she rolled over onto her stomach, raised up on her elbows and stared out at the window.

"Hedwig!" Ginny jumped off the bed to let the beautiful snowy white owl into the room. "What are you doing here? You should know by now, Ron's room is. . . ." It was at that moment that Ginny noticed it was her name - not her brother's - written in Harry's concentrated script on the letter. Quickly releasing the ties, Ginny walked back and sat down on the edge of her bed. Hedwig perched upon her knee and hooted up at her fondly. Seeing the warmth in the owl's round amber eyes, Ginny relaxed and stroked Hedwig's wings.

_What could Harry possibly have to say to me that would take up so much paper_? she thought as she unfolded the letter and began to read. By the end of the letter she was filled with such dread and anxiety, she couldn't bear to read the final paragraph.

"Ginevra Weasley, come down to breakfast now, before it gets cold!"

"Well, I guess the rest of it can wait awhile." Ginny quickly tucked the letter under a stack of papers in the top drawer of the bedside table and proceeded to get dressed. She emerged into the hallway in a pair of deconstructed flare jeans and a baby tee and proceeded to head to breakfast.

To the untrained eye she looked like any other teenage girl, but unlike many others her age, she could honestly claim the title of witch.

Walking through the rest of the house it was easy to see that she came by it naturally. As always, the Weasley house was a lovely cluttered mess. There were open spell books and pieces of parchment lying on the living room rug, which like most things in the house had seen better days.

Inside the kitchen the scrubbed oak table was laden down with griddle cakes, muffins, bacon, eggs, sausages, tea, milk and juice. It was always amazing that while the family was poor as church mice, none of the children had ever experience hunger.

Ginny sat down between her older twin brothers, Fred and George, both were dressed in matching fluorescent pink robes with a large W on the chest. One of her other brothers, Ron was sitting across from her, shoveling food into his mouth, whilst Mr. Weasley sat drinking his tea and reading the morning edition of The Daily Prophet.

"Listen to this_, 'Ministry incompetence to blame for the escape of two Death Eaters outside of Hull.'_Of course there's no mention of the other three we were able to apprehend. Who wrote - ah yes, Rita Skeeter!"

"Arthur, dear, you really shouldn't worry so much about what that wretched woman writes," Mrs. Weasley said kindly as she sat down with her tea. "She has it out for the Ministry. Always has.

"Ginny, you're looking awfully pale. Is there anything the matter?"

At the mention of her name, Ginny noticed that she had been staring at the muffin in her hand for quite some time. "No. I'm fine, mum."

"Alright then," Molly said very much unconvinced. "Arthur, does the Order have any idea where they are going to be having the meetings from now on?"

"Why would they need a new meeting place?" Ginny gasped all thoughts of food gone from her mind. Her brothers stared at her wonderingly. "Has there been an attack at Grimmauld Place?"

"Rest easy, now," chuckled Mr. Weasley. "As far as we can tell, the Death Eaters still have no idea about number 12, thankfully. However, since Harry will be moving in there permanently within the next week, we thought it would be a good idea to have some back up options on the off chance that he should not want us in his house."

"Do you mean he gets to live on his own? How is that possible?" asked Ron dumbfounded.

"Well," began Arthur, unsurely, "Since there is so much happening right now, and much of it involving him, the Ministry has decided to grant Harry an Emancipated Waiver. This will allow him to have all of the legal rights and privileges of and adult. Not that he'll need it for very long since he'll be turning seventeen later this summer anyway. But with it he will be able to get his Apparation License, enter into contracts, and be able to collect upon all of his inheritances."

Everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts. Fred and George were thinking up ways to have Harry fund their new product research; Ron said to himself, jealousy bubbling through his whole being _What does he need more money for? He's got so much of it already?;_ Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both felt sorry for Harry and the hard life fate had dealt him, knowing that no amount of money could change his past; Ginny thought about how lonely it must be to be able to have everything, and yet still have nothing.

"Uhm, Arthur, you're going to be late. We can't have our new Minister of Stratagic Planning showing up late on his first day now, can we?" Molly teased as she straightened his tie and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Mr. Weasley's ears began to go red as he left the kitchen.

"When was Dad made a minister?" all the children asked, bewildered by the scene they had just witnessed.

"Oh, that," Molly's face began to glow a faint pink. "The Ministry owled him late last night saying he'd won the appointment. Isn't it grand! A minister in our family!"

A tear formed and threatened to slide down her cheek, until she noticed Fred and George still sitting at the table. "Don't you two need to get back to your joke of a shop?" Mrs. Weasley smiled at her own cleverness.

"Yes. We should be going."

"Yeah. We've got three new products being introduced today. You should really be there, mum," Fred said with barely restrained mischief.

"Ah, sadly I can't make it. Why don't you take Ron with you instead?"

Ron gulped at his mother's idea. _Doesn't she realize what she's saying_ "Yeah, I guess I'll go. I can owl Harry and tell him about our good news," he said with a bit of true enthusiasm.

"Splendid idea, that! Come along Ronikins, off to work!" George was saying as he and Fred pulled him from the chair and nearly dragged him towards the fire.

"Make sure he comes home in one piece. The garden needs to be de-gnomed later on this week," Mrs. Weasley shouted from the kitchen sink.

"No worries mum!" And with that, the fire blazed to life and its green glow filtered through the rooms. It was soon followed by three voices calling "Weasley Wizard Wheezes".

The house was once again silent and empty of all male bodies – unless, of course, the ghoul in the attic counted.

"Ginny, will you help with the clean up?"

"Sure." Ginny began to stack plates and cups without thought. It was so rare to be able to just think without one of her annoying brothers barging in. So much had happened this morning, Ginny's mind began to churn uncontrollably. All she could think about was Harry's letter waiting for her upstairs. _I guess I should write him back, tell him everything will work out. Oh, and finish reading it. That would probably help._

"Is there something bothering you, love?" Ginny stilled as she walked to the sink. "Your brothers aren't here. You know you can tell me anything," Molly said soothingly.

"No, there's nothing."

Molly just stared at her daughter, using the unconvinced intimidator-look that concerned mothers always wear.

"Well, actually there is something, but I can't talk about it right now. Could we do this a little later in the afternoon? Please."

Only slightly pacified by the promise of later talks, Molly agreed to her only daughter's request and watched her retreat up the stairs.

"There are days I'd swear that boys are easier."

* * *

Ginny walked up the stairs, dreading the thought of finishing Harry's letter.

_'__Oh, get over it! There must be a reason he would write to you. Why not Ron or Hermione? The least you can do is to try to help!'_

_'I know. I know_' the struggle between herself finished, Ginny entered into the room and locked the door.

A sigh of surprise escaped her lips when she saw Hedwig was still in her room and had perched on the bedknob with her head tucked beneath a wing.

Ginny grabbed a quill and some parchment before jumping onto the bed. Hedwig fluttered up and turned to look at her reproachfully.

"Well, it is my room," Ginny said as she pulled open the drawer and removed Harry's letter.

Once again she unfolded the letter, but skimmed over most of it until reaching the final paragraph.

"What?" Ginny found herself rereading the words a second, a third, and on the fourth time did all of the words seem to fully sink in.

"He just asked me to move in with him and . . . he loves me. He loves me!" Ginny fell back onto the pillows, a smile plastered on her face. It was as though every wish she had had since she was ten years old was finally coming true.

Even though she had told everyone she was over Harry during her fourth year at Hogwarts, she had even dated a couple of guys over that time. The truth was that her feelings for Harry had never really diminished. If anything, they had only intensified as she grew to know the real Harry Potter. Not the hero, but the unconfident, shy, somewhat lost person that everyone else seemed to forget about and underestimate.

Getting to date Harry the last month or so of her fifth year had seemed to pass by so quickly, as though she were caught in a dream. However, like all dreams, as soon as everything had seemed to going well, the lights were turned on and the dream ended. Although it wasn't a real light that had extinguished their newly forming relationship, but the devastation of a world caught in a war.

"Ouch!" Ginny looked to see Hedwig perched on her knee with a sheet of parchment held in her beak. "Oh, right," she said blushing slightly at her purely feminine outburst from Harry's letter.

"Thanks Hedwig," as Ginny took the paper, Hedwig nibbled her finger before flying over to the bed stand. Ginny just stared at the owl for a moment, knowing that Harry was the only other person Hedwig had shown emotions for – owls, while being very intelligent, only bonded with a few people during their lifetime – and felt very honored. "I only hope that I'm good enough for him," she said as she dipped her quill into the ink.

Hedwig trilled a hoot of encouragement.

Ginny sat with the quill poised over the paper for more than a minute before setting it back down. Grabbing Harry's letter, she scrambled for the door.

"Mum! Mum, I need to - Oomph," Ginny had just turned onto the landing of the stairs when she ran into her mother, who was putting away the laundry.

"Where's the fire, dear?" Molly laughed as she bent to pick up the basket.

"Uhm, well, I got a letter from Harry this morning, and well," Ginny was so nervous, her hands fidgeted with the letter. "He said. . . He'd like. . . Oh, here. Just read it."

Mrs. Weasley straightened up from the floor, curious as to what could have made her daughter act so. She took the proffered letter and began to read.

As she read her eyes bulged at some points, gasps, which were a mixture of surprise and horror, escaped occasionally. By the time she had finished, she was as pale as the sheets residing in her basket.

"Oh, my! And you say that this arrived this morning. Do you think Harry has told anyone else?"

"I'm almost certain he will have written to Dumbledore and maybe to Lupin, but I'm not sure. I'll ask when I write back." Ginny paused for a moment, gathering her courage. "Mum, did you read the last paragraph? That - that's the most important part."

"No, I didn't," Molly's eyes scanned over the last few lines and found herself reading it a second time, not quite sure what else to do. Mrs. Weasley folded the letter and took a deep breath. "Ginny, come sit down with me."

Both women were quiet as they sat together on the stairs. Mrs. Weasley looked over at her daughter. Gone was the shy little girl who would chase after her brothers wanting to be exactly like them. She had grown into a tall, beautiful, young woman that was determined to cut her own path in life.

"You know what all of this means, don't you?" Ginny could only nod as emotions tumbled within her tying both her stomach and tongue into knots. "There doesn't seem to be much choice in the matter, considering the circumstances. You should go, and I know that Harry needs you, but that doesn't stop me from wanting to protect you both." Mrs. Weasley ended on a sob with tears running down her face.

"Oh, mum," Ginny threw her arms around her mother resting her head on her shoulder. "I know how dangerous this is going to be, but I don't want Harry to have to face it alone like he's had to do with everything else. He said he needs me and I won't be the one to let him down!"

"Well, then I guess we need to get you packed," Mrs. Weasley said as she wiped her face with one of the tea towels from the basket. "Your father will need to pull some strings at the Ministry for this, but we'll support you, dear." She took a deep breath and continued on a bit more cheerily. "Now, why don't you go and tell that charming man of yours the good news."

Ginny smiled down at her mother and gave her another hug before heading back to her room.


	3. Letters

Chap 3 – Letters

Harry sat in the Dursley's sitting room, bored out of his mind. Uncle Vernon was attending a seminar on the marketing and sales projections for the drill company he worked for and had decided to take Petunia with him to Bath, so they wouldn't be home until Wednesday; while Dudley, their enormous, cruel prodigal son, was staying at his friend Piers' house. This meant that by some unknown miracle, Harry was left all alone: the house was completely empty.

Harry had finished the mountains of holiday work from school within the first two weeks of the vacation – being locked in his room, what other choice did he have?

It was nearly six o'clock in the evening. Ginny had had about twelve hours, Harry guessed, and still hadn't sent a reply. 'Don't freak out. There are a dozen reasons why she may not have replied yet.' A dozen or so scenarios played around in his head, each becoming progressively worse than the one before.

Unable to control his nerves any longer, Harry walked over to the piano, raised the key guard, and sat down at the bench. If Aunt Petunia knew he was about to touch her vintage upright Steinway, she'd go spar.

"What she doesn't know can't hurt her," and with that Harry began to play. His fingers flowed over the ebony and ivory keys as a slow, intricate ballad began to fill the air. No one knew that Harry could play, except for Mrs. Figg, who allowed him to play after she had regaled him with her unbearably long stories about her numerous cats. Piano and Quidditch were the only things which came naturally to him. As the final chords faded away, a loud crash and a shrill shrieking came into the room.

"Pig!" the little owl buzzed unceasingly around the room, but being a Seeker, Harry deftly plucked him out of the air and removed the letter he was carrying.

Harry opened the letter with barely contained joy. Ginny. Her graceful, feminine handwriting spread across the page and Harry's heart gave a tight thump as he began to read.

Dear Harry –

I was so surprised to receive your letter – at first I thought Hedwig had the wrong room. You were right, though. I was scared, but I know how much this means and what needs to be done. If you say that you need me, I'll stand by your side until the end.

I talked with mum about all of this (I'm sorry if you didn't want her to know yet, but I had to talk with her) and she said that it'll take about a week for Dad to get some things approved by the Ministry, but then I can leave to be with you. In case you're wondering, Dad will be getting us both approved Emancipated Waivers, which will make us legal adults in the Wizarding world.

Well, I guess that's it for now, mum and I have a lot to do before next Monday. Hope the Muggles are treating you well.

Love always – Ginny

P.S. How's your "master plan" coming along?

Harry smiled at the last comment before rereading the whole letter, slowly this time, wanting to commit every word to memory.

'. . . then I can be with you. . . Love always.'

Those words kept resounding within his mind. 'I just hope she doesn't get hurt because of me,' Harry thought as he folded Ginny's letter and put it in his shirt pocket. "Come on, Pig. I've got a letter to write." Pig flew over and settled calmly on Harry's shoulder as he walked up the stairs to his room. "I hope you're not getting sick. I've never seen you act like this," he laughed. Pig merely cooed and fluffed his feathers importantly before flying off to Hedwig's empty cage.

As Harry closed the door he heard a hooting, much deeper than Pig was capable of, coming from the open window. Upon the sill sat five different owls, all quite unfamiliar to him. Unsure what was going on, he grabbed a few Owl Treats and removed their letters. After finishing their business, all, except one, flew off in different directions.

"Well, that's no help. Hmm, two from the Ministry of Magic, one from Dumbledore, one from Hermione. "I guess you must belong to Hermione," he spoke to the tawny still waiting patiently. She straightened and ruffled her feathers before nodding. "Ah, and one from Ron." Deciding to go with good news first Harry opened Ron's letter.

Harry –

Hey mate! You should've been at the shop today. Fred and George were introducing some new gags. Dean was there, so we had him try _TransGinger_ – which will change you so you look like a bloke/girl, depending. He's such a twat, the slap to the face was well worth seeing him storm and huff out of the store. We're still not sure how long it will last (oops).

Guess what – Dad got the Minister of Strategic Planning!

Can you believe it? Mum was almost beside herself this morning. He says they've got some strings being pulled for you, but I guess you'll learn more about that once you get to Grimmauld Place. Hope the Muggles aren't keeping you down. Ron

P.S. Have you heard anything from Hermione? I think she must be angry at me for something.

Harry groaned aloud as he leaned against his desk. Although he was very proud of Mr. Weasley's appointment- no one deserved it more – the letter grated on his patience. Ron and Hermione were always having a spat about something or other and being caught in the middle for six years was beginning to take its toll.

In hopes of finding some answers, Harry read Hermione's postcard with her neat, precise script filling up the card.

Dear Harry,

Italy is wonderful! Everything is filled with magic and history. Do you think Professor Flitwick will mind that my essay is five rolls of parchment rather than three?

I'm so upset with Ron; he's such a brainless git! I practically throw myself at him inviting him to come with me and he starts going on about the joke shop!

Oh, well, he'll be getting his (I've asked Ginny to give him hell until I get back and can do it myself). So, how has your holidays been? I hope you're doing your homework and are reading up on your defense lessons.

Well, I must go. Mum and Dad are waiting on me for dinner.

Arivederrci! Hermione

P.S. Isn't Athene lovely!

"Stubborn fools! You'd think that by now they would've gotten it together and realized that they're mad about each other," Harry was now pacing from the window to his bed, not caring if the on looking owls thought he'd gone off his rocker. "Honestly, they can't even be in the same room with each other without sparks flying. Well, we'll soon fix this."

Ideas of how to set up his two best friends began to form in his mind until he remembered the other letter he was still holding. "Business before pleasure, I guess," Harry sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed to open Dumbledore's letter.

Some how Harry had been able to forgive Dumbledore once he had revealed the secret of the Prophecy at the end of his fifth year. It had taken a lot of thought, but in the end it came down to two simple facts: Dumbledore was the best source of information on almost any topic and was still the only person whom Voldemort feared.

Harry Potter –

We have been expecting something like this for some time. Voldemort and his followers have been too small in their attacks of late. Once you have left for Grimmauld Place we may discuss some other tactics and defenses.

It has come to my attention that Miss Weasley shall be staying with you for the remainder of the summer.

Harry could just picture the twinkle in the old man's clear blue eyes at this point.

If that is to be the case, we should explore some options to ensure both of your safeties – every precaution should be used when protecting a lady.

Albus Dumbledore

'_How did he find out about that, already?_' Harry wondered as he broke the seal on the next Ministry letter. Dumbledore always seemed go have an "in" on most subjects, but this was the fist time Harry had experienced it with something in his truly personal life. Looking back to the letter, he noticed that it was short and very official.

Mr. Potter:

An application, UEW6219A – Under-aged Wizardry Emancipation Waiver, has been filed in your name. Due to extraneous circumstances, this request has been approved. Further information concerning this permit shall be sent to you through Albus Dumbledore, as your legal residence is unregistered with the Ministry of Magic.

Also, an appointment will need to be arranged with Gringott's Bank concerning your accounts and any inheritance(s) you may have accumulated.

Hope you enjoy the remainder of the holidays.

Cerise Burlsing – Secretary to Minister of Underage Wizards

"Wicked!" '_Ginny said it would take a week to get this approved_.' Wishing to test his new found freedom, Harry conjured a stack of Pumpkin Pasties and opened the final letter magically.

The last letter was written in a strangely familiar scrawl. Skipping down to the signature, he realized why it was so familiar; Ron's handwriting was exactly like his father's. Harry took a deep breath, almost fearful to see what Mr. Weasley would have to say.

Harry –

I hope that you're doing well and are safe. I understand that you will be living at Grimmauld Place for the remainder of the holidays and wish for my only daughter to stay with you.

I must say this came as quite a shock to me when Ginny and Mrs. Weasley floo called the office earlier. At first I was vehemently opposed to the idea, – wanting to protect my little girl, you see – but I do trust you Harry, and believe that you'd do everything in your power to keep her safe. There was really no way I could have stopped her if she had wanted to go, she's too stubborn for her own good sometimes. So, with that said, I give you both, my blessing and my daughter.

Try to keep in touch with us, as you know how Molly is prone to worrying over you.

Arthur Weasley – Minister of Strategic Planning

P.S. How do you like the title?

Harry fell back onto the bed in relief. He'd just been given the greatest gift of his life. '_And it's not even my birthday_,' he thought wryly.

The foundation that he needed for his plan was beginning to take form: he had his Wizarding license, the support of the Order and Dumbledore, and Ginny. "What more could I ask for?"

As he lay basking in his good fortune the owls began moving about the room. Harry was completely unaware until Pig pecked him on the nose. "Ow!" Harry shot up and saw Pig holding a quill while Athene had a few sheaves of parchment. "Alright. I know I need to write back, but couldn't you have reminded me in a less painful way?" he asked, still rubbing his nose.

Both owls just hooted sweetly and dropped the items into his lap.

The letters to Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley were short and consisted of making arrangements to meet at Grimmauld Place the following week and promising to take care of both himself and Ginny. In his letter to Ron, he explained Hermione's position and told him to apologize, profusely, until she took him back. '_If all else fails, kiss her_.' Harry could just see Ron gasping in shock at the idea of kissing Hermione, so he decided to include it. He told Hermione to forgive Ron once he'd apologized and told her to _'listen to your heart instead of your brain for once in your life.'_

His letter to Ginny was the longest of all and as he wrote a warm, longing filled his heart, just as a solution to his problems began to take shape in his mind.

With the letters sealed and addressed, he tied the ones for Mr. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny to Pig and had Athene take Dumbledore's and Hermione's. He watched as both owls disappeared into the darkness.

Harry looked over at the bedside clock – 9:45.

While not particularly tired, Harry knew he had a lot to do tomorrow before the Dursleys returned home. He quickly changed out of his baggy jeans and t-shirt, and climbed into bed. He cleared his mind and tried to put up the barriers and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.


	4. Breakfast

Chap 4 – Breakfast

A buzzing sounded and disturbed the quiet room. Harry reached out blindly and turned off the alarm. He lay on his back for a few minutes, not wanting to get up. It wasn't until his stomach gurgled and growled that he made an effort to move. Last night's dinner had consisted of three Pumpkin Pasties. '_Not the best of diets, I supposed_,' he thought as he walked down the stairs to the kitchen.

Knowing he would need to begin training, physically as well as magically, Harry set out the makings of a "world class" omelet. Eggs, sausage, cheese, and peppers pilled up on the counter. As he worked at the stove (without magic, since he enjoyed cooking as long as it wasn't for the Dursleys), he allowed his mind to wander to his plans.

He needed to get to Grimmauld Place and have it cleaned out. Mainly because the house was filthy and had fallen into decay, but also because he was curious to see what he may find. Harry also needed to go to Diagon Alley to make some purchases after his meeting at Gringott's, perhaps even a trip into Muggle London for some new furniture and clothing. Although that would have to wait until Ginny arrived. Harry smiled at the idea of surprising her with a no-limit shopping trip.

As for the magical training, he needed to know everything. Voldemort wouldn't be pulling his punches, so Harry needed to know both sides of the coin: the Dark Arts and how to defend against them. '_Maybe I should look into Animagi, and it couldn't hurt if I knew more in Charms and Transfiguration_,' Harry thought as he plated his omelet and made toast (with magic this time.)

'_Ginny will need to know most of this stuff, too. I wonder if she'd be good at healing_,' he continued to himself as he sat down to the table. '_Plus, we'll nee to be in top form_,' this part of the planning worried him a little.

Harry had always been small and slim, but over the past year he had hit a growth spurt and begun to fill out a bit. He had never really worried about physical fitness, as long as he could outrun Dudley he had been safe as a child and during Quidditch season, being lithe and nimble had been important for the Seeker. Now though, he needed to become stronger, but still stay swift and agile. '_Maybe I could ask Moody when he comes over. He'd probably know something helpful_.'

After he had finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, Harry went back up to his room. '_I_ _wonder who's on duty right now_,' he thought. There was always someone watching over Harry. Sometimes there was only one guard, other times there were as many as three present, trying to keep any Death Eaters who may have been watching guessing as to their schedules.

Harry looked out the bedroom window into the back garden. He watched for nearly ten minutes waiting for whoever was on duty to get restless and give themselves away. "Tonks," he called down quietly. Soon a short, slim witch with bubble gum colored hair popped up from the hydrangea bush.

"What can I do for you, Harry?" she asked.

"Do you know if Moody is going to be on watch anytime soon?"

"Yea, actually. He'll be here around teatime today."

"Could you tell him I need to talk with him, if he has the time?"

"Will do, Harry," she said laughingly as she blended back into her hiding spot.

With that bit taken care of, Harry decided to clean up and get all of his stuff organized because on Friday he was leaving number four Privet Drive and the Dursleys . . . forever.

* * *

"Ginny, come down to breakfast."

Ginny rolled onto her stomach and pulled the pillow tightly over her head. Mornings had never been her most favorite time of day, but after staying up all night waiting for a reply that hadn't come, she hated them even more.

"Don't make me send one of your brothers up to wake you!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the base of the stairs.

At this threat, Ginny ran out of her room still in her pajama shorts and camisole – there was no telling what any one of her brothers would do if given free reign. As she was rounding the corner to the kitchen she ran into a solid mass. She could feel herself falling through the air until a strong pair of arms caught her from behind.

"Bill? Charlie? What are you both doing here?" Ginny asked happily as she hugged them both in turn. They both just smiled down at her without answering.

Bill, whom she had run into, took her arm and walked her into the kitchen. He pulled out her chair and took the seat to her left.

"Oh now, Fleur has got you whipped, hasn't she?" Fred sniggered from across the table.

"You'd be amazed how well women repay chivalry," Bill replied suggestively. "Sure beats that handprint across your face. Angelina finally threw you out, then?" Fred just blushed and attacked his food with excessive vigor.

"You still haven't answered my question," Ginny said sweetly as she spread jam onto her toast.

"Oh, right," Charlie said from the seat on her right. "Well, it's all this stuff about Voldemort. The Ministry's called back all internationally posted witches and wizards." He paused taking a drink of his coffee. "I'm supposed to be teaching people how to fight with magical creatures in battle."

"Wicked!" all of the Weasley boys said in unison.

"I know. It should be very successful, and Bill. . . What _are_ you going to be doing?" he asked as he pilled more eggs and bacon onto his plate.

"Well, since Gringotts is already so well protected, I'll be working . . ."

It was at that moment that Pig flew in through the open window and landed in Mr. Weasley's tea. Mrs. Weasley bustled over and removed Pig from the cup and untied the letters before setting the small owl in front of the fire to dry. "Here you go Ron. Arthur," she handed them both their letter and pocketed the third.

"What was that mum?" George asked, attempting to liberate the letter from his mother's apron pocket.

"Never you mind," she said swatting away his hand with one of her wooden spoons. "It's just a little note from Harry. No doubt he's hoping for some help making that house into a home," she said cheerfully as she winked at Ginny.

Ginny blew out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. If any of her brothers were to find out that Harry was writing to her. . . Merlin only knew what would happen next.

Relieved by her mother's timely save, Ginny went back to her meal, until she saw Ron. He was frozen. In one hand he held Harry's letter while in the other he had his fork, completely forgotten.

"Oi, Ron!" George was waving a hand in front of his face, trying to break him out of his trance. "What 'ave we here?" he said mischievously as he reached for the letter.

"Back off!" Ron yelled as he shoved the letter into his pant's pocket. "I was just caught a little off guard, that's it. It was nothing."

"Couldn't have been 'nothing' if it put you off your feed for even a second," Charlie laughed good-naturedly. "Look at you. Your forks just hanging there, with food still on it!" Ron turned a deep crimson and shoved the food into his mouth, gaining laughs from the rest of his brothers.

"Well, I should be off then," Mr. Weasley said. He finished the last of his tea, stood and walked towards the hallway. "Bill, I need you to take care of that little chore that we discussed. Ginny, will you see me off, please."

"Sure, Dad," Ginny sprang from her chair and almost floated to her father, trying to ignore the strain in his voice and the worry in his eyes.

When she walked into the living room, her father was standing before the fireplace, looking at a picture on the mantle. It was from their family trip to Egypt, almost four years ago.

"Everything was so much simpler then," Mr. Weasley said quietly.

"Dad," Ginny walked over and placed a hand on her father's arm. "What's all this about, honestly?"

"I'm afraid for you; for all of you, but especially you Ginny," he said turning to face her. "You're my only daughter. You shouldn't be forced onto the front lines of this war. You should be safe and protected, not fighting for your life."

A tear fell from his eye as he gazed down at his youngest child. "If I could I would protect you all. No parent wants to see their children put into a dangerous situation, but somehow it's different with you. Bill and Charlie are smart and well trained in what they do; Ron has always been lucky, able to get through anything, that one. Even Fred and George are clever and resourceful, but you. . . No matter how old you get, I still see you as a little spit-fire wanting so much to be noticed. That's just you, my little girl."

Ginny took a deep breath and looked into her father's eyes. "I know, Dad. I don't want to do this – any of this. I'd much rather be a normal teenage girl with normal problems, but since that's not an option for me, I'm going to do what's needed of me to protect the people that I love," she hugged her father as the tears began to fall. "I'll always be your little girl, Da, but I also need to be myself. That's all any one of us can do, isn't it?"

Mr. Weasley laughed a little as he straightened up and began to mess with his shirt collar. "When did you become so wise?" Ginny just shrugged as she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand.

"Well, then," he cleared his throat. "I guess I'll be going now." Mr. Weasley turned and was about to apparate when Ginny whispered, "G'bye Daddy." He turned and gave her a sad smile before quietly disappearing.

For a moment Ginny stood all alone, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the family clock. She brought her hands up to her mouth and began to take deep, calming breaths. She looked up at the mirror hanging above the fire. Not wanting to have to endure her brothers' taunts and comments should she return to breakfast with red, puffy eyes, Ginny tried to make herself presentable.

Satisfied that her oblivious siblings wouldn't notice her appearance, Ginny walked back to the kitchen, only to be shoved aside into the hall wall as Ron stormed past.

"Sorry, Gin," he muttered as he headed to his room.

As Ginny sat down at the table, she saw her mother at the sink, scrubbing pans and mumbling angrily to herself. "What did I miss?" she asked her brothers who all seemed to be glowing from the aftermath of a confrontation.

"Do you want the play by play or recap?" Fred asked.

"Well, since it's you lot telling the tale, just the recap will do."

"Ah, and I had my entire commentary ready," George said poutily. "Anyway, mum asked Ron when Hermione was going to get back from her holiday and told him that he should ask her to stay for the rest of the summer."

"And then he went bezerk!" Bill said merrily.

"You should have seen it. He went to a whole new level of mad!" Charlie added. "He went on about how sick he is of everybody dropping hints and advice about him and Hermione. Saying how it was nobody's business but his own."

"Then he ran out of here with steam seeping from his ears!" Fred ended with a laugh and was soon joined by the others.

"Oh, and then mum began mumbling something like 'wouldn't know love if it bit 'im in the arse!' or something like that. It was hard to hear through all the pots and pans," Bill commented.

Having worked off some of her mad, Mrs. Weasley turned to her remaining children, "Don't all of you need to get off to work or something?" When no one had seemed to have acknowledged her, her glare became steely and her voice took on a hard edge.

"MOVE!"

Chairs scraped against the floor as Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie ran towards the living room to avoid their mother's wrath.

"Finally," Mrs. Weasley collapsed into her chair without ceremony. "Here's your letter, dear," she said quietly and passed it to Ginny.

"Thanks, Mum," Ginny jumped up from the table, but stopped near the door. "Do you think that Ron and Hermione will ever admit that they're crazy for each other?"

"One can only hope. Merlin knows what life will be like if we have to watch them tiptoe around each other for much longer," Molly sighed before conjuring herself a cup of tea. "Off with you now. You've packing to do this afternoon. Oh, and your father wants to have another talk with you tonight, but don't worry about that now."

"Alright," Ginny said warily then began to climb the stairs.

The door to her room was still ajar due to her mad flight down to breakfast. Ginny leaned against the jamb, hoping to hear into Ron's room, just above her own, but everything was silent.

"Moody prat," Ginny spat as she walked into the room and shut the door. She flopped down and lay across the bed with her legs dangling over the edge.

As the letter was unfolded, Ginny noticed the exactness of Harry's writing. '_Nice to see_ _he puts some thought into what he says_,' she thought and then began to read.

Dear Ginny –

It was nice to get your letter back – actually, I had been waiting for it all day, but that's another story. Have you received your Waiver yet? Mine just arrived! It's so cool to be able to do magic outside of school and not hear about it minutes later from the Ministry.

I'm going to see if I can talk with Mad Eye sometime this week about training and what not. I have it arranged for me to arrive at Grimmauld this Friday. This way I'll be able to get some things cleaned up and organized. The place is so dark and depressing, but I thought that once you got there we could go out and get whatever we may need to make it home.

I don't mind that you told your parents about all this (I'm sure they would've found out at the next Order meeting, anyway.) I did get a little worried when your dad owled me. I thought he was going to tell me off and forbid me to ever see you again – although the idea of rescuing you from banishment in the attic sounds very heroic. He just wanted the best for you; you're really lucky to have such great parents.

Your brothers don't know about this do they? Well, not your "brothers," but Ron. I know he was okay with us being together during school, but I think he'd see things differently now. I would hate to see what would happen if he found out he was being kept in the dark about all of this.

But, back to my "Master Plan." I've been working on an outline, just need to work out some kinks and details. All I can say until I see you. I have a plan for Ron and Hermione, too. I don't think I can take another year of them at each others throats, but I'm going to need your help. I've already given both of them a nudge, but you can never be certain with those two.

I need to get going, lots to do before Friday

Love you, Harry

Ginny rolled onto her back and clutched the letter to her chest. She stayed that way for countless minutes, just basking in the moment.

"How did he already get his Waiver?" Ginny wondered aloud as she rose and padded over to the window. 'I guess I'll just have to ask Dad about that tonight.'

She sat down on the window edge and looked in on her room. This room had been hers for nearly sixteen years and was filled with memories. On her desk sat her Hogwart's books and a half finished essay for Muggle Studies (why they had been given homework after taking the O.W.L.s she could never fathom). Her trunk was open and was filled with robes, school supplies, and some other odds and ends. Every part of the room had been touched by her and could never be replaced in her mind.

A thread of cold fear began to wrap itself around her insides. The importance of what was going to be expected of her in the coming months hit her, full force. For a moment Ginny was paralyzed in fear.

BOOM!

"Bloody Hell!" Ron swore from upstairs. Ginny shook her head trying to clear it.

"How I feel doesn't matter now. I need to do this. Riddle must be stopped!" And with that Ginny swallowed her fears and walked to her closet to change. It was time to pack away her old life because in four days she would be leaving, with no guarantee that she'd ever see it again.


	5. Interlude of Denial

Chap 5 – Interlude of Denial

Ron stomped up the stairs until he reached the top floor. He enjoyed feeling the house shake around him as he slammed the door to his room. He fell onto his bed, trying to block out the events of the morning.

He'd been able to get the shower first this morning. It had been his first shower with hot water since coming home – which he took as a sign, instant good day. At breakfast, mum had outdone her already spectacular cooking abilities. _What could ruin this day_, Ron had thought as he had tucked into his eggs. Then the post had arrived.

Usually getting a letter from Harry would bring some light into the darkest of days, but not this time. In his previous letter, Ron had asked about Hermione and as always Harry was able to see the situation from a different angle. He had explained that Hermione was angry with him for not coming to Italy with her, and considering how she had asked him _(I can't believe you didn't get that mate! Are you really that dense when it comes to her?)_He told him to prepare for hostilities, both open and covert.

_'How's a bloke supposed to know what to say to her? She's always blowing hot and cold,_' Ron mussed as he took the letter out of his pocket to reread.

Once again, when he got to the last few lines, he couldn't believe what he had just read. Sure, he could apologise. He didn't _want _to do it, but if it made Hermione fell better then he'd do it. It was the notion of kissing her if a proper apology failed that made him quake.

_'Why would Harry even suggest that? Since when is he interested in other people's love lives?_' He thought as he began to pace the floor.

"Why is everyone so interested in Hermione and me? I mean, it's not as though we could ever be a couple. We're just too different."

'_Ah, but your differences compliment each other_,' his inner mind commented. '_You know what they say, opposites attract. . .'_

"No, I can't be. . . . She wouldn't. . . ."

BOOM!

Ron had caught his foot on the edge of something and fell onto the floor.

"Bloody Hell!" he sat up to see what had tripped him up. "A book?" he asked somewhat surprised, but it wasn't just any book. It was the planner Hermione had gotten him for Christmas during fifth year.

Ron smiled as he picked up the book and moved to lean against the side of his bed. Hermione was always looking out for him - making sure he kept his grades up and stayed out of trouble. Well, as much as was possible for him.

With his head propped upon the edge of the bed, Ron's mind began to turn. _'That's all Hermione thinks of me a_:_ a person who needs her to look after them. She'll never see me as anything but that, even if I wanted her to,_' he thought sullenly. _'We've been friends for over six years. Something would have happened if we were supposed to be together.'_

'You're so dense! Don't you remember second year, when Hermione was petrified? You were terrified you'd lose her. Or how 'bout fourth year, and she was spending so much time with Viktor Krum? Don't try to deny the fact that you were jealous because everyone could see you were,' his mind argued.

Everything was quiet. Ron drew his knees up to his chest and hung his arms and head in defeat. "It doesn't matter. Even if I poured my heart out to her, she'd just laugh at me," he muttered darkly.

"Fuck the lot of it! I'm goin' to work," With that, he stood up, tossed the book into his trunk, and walked back down the stairs to the living room fire.

Ron threw the floo powder into the fire and watched the green flames for a few seconds before stepping into them. "Diagon Alley," he stated clearly and in a flash he was gone.

* * *

The inside of the house was silent and dark.

Footsteps began to sound from the front stoop; a jingle of keys shattered the silence as a key slid into the lock. As the door opened up into the room, dust motes began to dance in the midday light.

"Oh my, it's so good to be home," Mrs. Granger sighed as she walked into the family's townhouse.

"I couldn't agree more, my dear. Though, you must admit, that delay over Paris turned out quite well," Mr. Granger panted as he hefted two bulging suitcases and disappeared up the stairs.

"Just look at all this mail. This is the part of going on holiday that I hate," Mrs. Granger said to herself as she shuffled through a large collection of envelopes. "Hermione, where are you?"

"Right here, Mum," Hermione answered from the door, still laden down with a large suitcase and various shopping bags.

"When you go to put your things away, tell your father to come back down. We need to have a talk."

"Not a problem, mum," she replied.

As Hermione walked up the stairs her brain jumped into overdrive. _'What could we possibly have to talk about? We only just got home; what's wrong now?_' She opened her door and stepped into her personal domain.

Everything was organized, in its place and seemed picture perfect - a paradox, really. While on the outside Hermione appeared cool and collected, inside she was caught in a raging turmoil of emotions.

She placed the shopping bags on her school trunk and the suitcase on the bed and began to unpack. Italy had been filled with so much stuff; Hermione hadn't been able to curb her shopping.

She'd bought herself multiple books on runes and their meanings and _Adding it Up_ by Addona Numerons for her Advanced Arithmancy class. For Ginny, she'd bought _The Complete Almanac of Hexes, Jinxes, Curses and their Counterparts_ and also a pair of copper and crystal chandelier earrings; for Harry, _1001 Defensive Spells and Charms_ and a wand holster - to an outsider it would appear as a leather band, about three inches wide, but if would also prevent the wearer's wand from being summoned away during a duel.

Now that she was home, Hermione realized she had gone overboard with Ron's gifts - a real Sneakoscope, _The Secret History of Aurors: Requirements, Training and Special Ops_, an official Chudley Cannons practice jersey, and a broom servicing kit.

_'I don't know why I bought him so much. It's not as thought he'll notice it. Besides, I'm still angry with him,__' _Hermione fumed as she put the presents away in her trunk.

Halfway through her suitcase there was a tapping upon the glass.

"Athene!" Hermione shrieked as she rushed to open the window. "How intelligent you are!" She untied the letter and gave Athene a stroke and an Owl Treat. Before flying off to her perch, she cooed her thanks.

Looking at the letter, Hermione recognized Harry's writing and quickly opened it. _'Hmm, his writing's messier than usual, as though he's agitated or something.'_

Hermione -

Glad to hear you're enjoying your holiday. Can't complain too much about the Dursleys - they left me alone in the house for a week, so. Just so you know (mum), I finished all of the homework within the first two weeks because I plan to start training full time once I've moved into Grimmauld next week.

Yes, we all know that Ron's a git, but go easy on him. He knows that you're mad with him and feels wretched.

"Good, we're a little more even now," Hermione mumbled angrily.

Whenever you see him, let him apologise - don't poke and prod for one. And Hermione, for once, listen to your heart, not your head (just this once.) Harry

"What does he mean by that?" she refolded the letter and placed it on her desk. "What's he trying to - "

"Hermione, hurry and come downstairs," Mrs. Granger called from the staircase.

Hermione breathed a sight of relief. _'Thank goodness I don't have to deal with this yet.'_"I'm coming."

As Hermione walked down the stairs and through the hall to the sitting room, a thought suddenly overtook her mind. She looked around and noticed the clinical, unlived-in feel of the house, and not just at the moment, but that it had always been like that.

The tables weren't littered with books or knick-knacks; there were only two family pictures in the whole house. One was of her parents on their wedding day and the other was taken on the summer holiday when she was eleven (days later she had received her first Hogwart's letter.) Everything else that was on the walls was paintings or other professional works. Nothing in the house had any significant meaning, it was just there.

This feeling made her long for the loving comfort of the Burrow, but this reminded her of Ron. Not wanting to think of her own feelings at the moment, Hermione pushed them to the back of her mind as she opened the door to the room.

Her parents sat together on the sofa and had placed one of the armchairs directly in front of it.

_'What is this, an Inquisition?__'_ she wondered as she sat in the chair. Both of her parents seemed to be avoiding looking at her in the eye. Her mother was the first to move as she cleared her throat.

"Hermione, you know how much your father and I love you, right?" Hermione inclined her head, growing more nervous. "Well, we believe it would be best if you didn't return to school this year and instead enrolled at Gladstone Academy."

Hermione was speechless (a rare occurrence for her). "Mum, how could I -"

"Let me finish. With all of these unexplained attacks happening all over the country we feel it would be better if you stayed closer to home. Your father and I only get to see you two months out of the year. If you were to become a full-fledged witch, we would probably never see you," Mrs. Granger ended on a sob and buried her head into her husband's shoulder.

"Your mother's right. When you were little, you always wanted to be a professor or a barrister. If you stayed with us you could still do that. What would you become if you stayed where you are?" Hermione tried to answer but he pushed on undeterred. "Where will you work? Where will you live? How will you get by? These are all questions you need to be asking yourself now, before it's too late."

Hermione could feel the tears threatening to fall. _'How long have they felt like this? And why do they choose now to talk about it?'_

Not knowing what to say next, Hermione stared at her parents. Her mother's eyes were red and puffy, there were tear tracks running down her cheeks, and the silence of the room was periodically interrupted by her hiccoughed sobs. By contrasts, her father just sat there, his eyes looking into the distance and his jaw set as he waited for his daughter's response.

"Why are you only just now telling me about this?" she asked as she stood up and began to pace behind the chair. "I mean, if you've felt like this before, why didn't you bring it up sooner? I love Hogwarts," She stopped her movements and clutched the chair's headrest. "When I was in primary school I always felt different, an outsider somehow. Now, I'm just like everyone else. I'm top of my class and I have true friends.

"If I wanted to I could get any job I wanted. So, I don't understand why you want me to leave," Hermione ended shrilly.

"This is not negotiable," her father stated. "Either you stay here or we will be forced to disown you."

Hermione's jaw dropped, she blinked furiously, shaking her head wondering if she was hearing right.

"We'll give you enough money to buy your books and school supplies for this year, but after that you'd be nothing to us," Mrs. Granger finished resolutely.

"Well," Hermione sighed. "I guess you leave me with no choice."

_'I knew she'd make the right choice,'_ her parents thought in unison and straightened, anticipating Hermione's surrender.

"I'm going to Hogwarts. I'll owl the Weasleys and ask if I can stay there for the remainder of the summer," she turned and walked towards the door, then stopped to look back. Her parents were frozen in disbelief.

"I'll go get my things packed. I'll be gone by Friday evening." With that said Hermione fled from the room and headed upstairs.

Once back inside her room, she locked the door and slumped against it. All at once the repressed emotions that she had been accumulating over the day descended upon her and Hermione slid down to the floor in tears.

She no longer had any parents, a family, or a place to live and all because she couldn't lie to herself. She was a witch, it was the only part of her that had ever made sense or felt right and now was nearly the only constant left in her life.

Finding some comfort in what she still had - her magic, her friends, and school - Hermione sat up and wiped away her tears. She leaned against the door trying to calm her breathing. After nearly fifteen minutes, feeling somewhat composed, if still a little shaky, she stood and walked towards the desk.

Taking out pen and parchment she began her letter to the Weasleys. Hermione signed her name with a flourish and quickly sealed the letter, not wanting to second guess her decision.

"Athene," the pretty tawny woke from her perch and fluttered over to land on the back of the chair. "I need you to take this to the Weasley's home and stay there. I'll be there soon." The owl hooted and within seconds was out of the room and out of sight, leaving Hermione alone.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't get much of a chance to unpack."


	6. Afternoon and Bedtime Tea

Chap 6 – Afternoon and Bedtime Tea

Harry was in the kitchen preparing tea. It was nearly four in the afternoon, but Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon weren't due back until seven - though that wasn't much assurance for Harry. They could arrive back at any moment hoping to have an excuse to punish him for being in the wrong.

POP.

He turned from the table to the sound of someone apparating. There was silence followed by a short knock to the kitchen door.

"Come in, Moody," Harry greeted the old auror as he opened the door.

Moody walked in, leaning heavily on his cane. His scared face looked tired and haggard; his robes were hanging loosely and his magical eye wasn't whirling around as it usually did.

Harry sighed at his observations. _'The war's beginning to take its toll. All the more reason for my training to be successful.'_ "Why don't you have a seat?"

"I know you didn't bring me here for tea and biscuits," Mad-Eye grumbled as he eased down into a chair. "So, what's all this about?"

"Well," Harry started to feel a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "You know that I'm going to be moving into Grimmauld Place later this week, right?" Moody nodded and Harry continued on more confidently now. "I'm going to start my training to defeat Voldemort and was wondering if you had any tips or information that would be of any use."

Mad-Eye was quiet as he stared into his cup, as though it held all the answers. "You're leaving this off a bit late, aren't you? I'll be honest. I don't think there's any way you could hope to be ready to fight within the next year. Hell, it would probably take closer to ten to learn everything you'd need and even then. . . . Who knows?" he paused for a moment studying Harry.

The boy looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, which he did. Everything depended on this young man and his ability to overcome the evil of the world. Not many would have had the courage to stand up and accept this fate, but accept it Harry had and he was determined to succeed.

"However, if you're really serious about this-"

"I am, sir," Harry answered and listened intently.

"Then you should consider purchasing an Auror's Trunk. It comes fully equipped with practice areas and equipment; there are also living quarters with a security system, and nearly unlimited space. That could give you a jumping off place. Said you were going to clean out number twelve?"

"Yes. I know Mrs. Weasley has already done most of the hard work, but I'm curious to see what else is hidden there."

"Well," Moody's voice took on a hard edge. "Knowing the old Black Family, there'll be some powerful dark magic books and what-not. Those could prove useful."

"Thanks, Moody. You've really given me some good ideas. So, what time is my escape set for?"

Mad-Eye chuckled at Harry's attempt at a joke; little did he know how much organization was going on behind the scenes. "We need you to be waiting, ready to go by 9 a.m. We'll portkey to the carpark nearby," Harry cringed inwardly. Portkey was his least favorite method of travel (for obvious reasons). "And walk to Number Twelve using Disillusionment Charms."

"How many guards?"

"Three posted around the perimeter of each drop site and another two en route."

Harry nodded. That'd make twelve guards, including Moody. "That seems an awful lot of people. Shouldn't' we try for so something a little more low-key?"

"That had been my idea at first, but no. The Death Eaters have become bolder in their attacks. Not much in the Wizarding World recently, but surely you must've heard about the Muggle attacks?"

Harry nodded sadly. He knew only too well about the recent attacks. There had been one last week in Reading, only blocks away from Hermione's home. Most of the other attacks had proven to be near misses for other Muggleborn students. Now, every precaution, short of lifting the ban on underage magic, was being used to protect the students while they were away from school.

"I guess I can see why we need so many. Will Lupin be involved?"

"Yes. He and Tonks insisted on being the en route guards. He's been working with those Ministry fools over creature controls and regulations or some other such rubbish."

'_That explains why he hasn't written back.'_

"I'll be going onto duty now," Moody drained the last of his tea and pocketed a biscuit. "Remember, Harry," he said as he rose and began to walk towards the door. "Constant vigilance."

The door closed and Harry sat in silence going over everything he'd just heard. The clock in the sitting room announced the hour. Five o'clock.

As though on cue, the front door opened. Any light wishing to enter the house was blocked by the monstrous size of Vernon Dursley.

"Oh, damn," Harry muttered. For unknown reasons, he had managed not to hear his uncle's thunderous approach from the driveway. Quickly, the remains of the tea were magicked away, the dishes cleaned and put back in place. Now, how to get upstairs?

There was only one way into the kitchen that would lead upstairs, and that was through the sitting room.

"Where is that boy? Lazing about or causing trouble, I'd wager," Uncle Vernon's voice resonated through the house. His slow, ponderous progress toward the kitchen could be heard, as well as felt.

Harry moved stealthily behind the hall-kitchen door. "_Disillusio,"_ he whispered and with a tap of his wand he was invisible. Uncle Vernon walked in and took a quick inventory of the room. Satisfied that everything was as it was supposed to be, he sat down at the table and began to read the evening post.

Sidestepping out from the door, Harry began to head for the stairs.

"Petunia, what time is Dudder's supposed to be getting home?"

Aunt Petunia came through the hall. Harry immediately flattened himself against the wall. She paused; her thin, horse-like face was drawn in suspicion as she looked around the hall. "I know you're still here," she whispered before entering the kitchen.

"Seven, Vernon. That's why we're home, so I can cook my little Diddums his favorites tonight. I'm sure he's nearly starved after being away all week."

Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. The thought of his whale-sized cousin starving was inconceivable. "_Silencio,"_ he whispered to the staircase and was soon back in his own room.

The sun was beginning to set in the western sky. The houses of Privet Drive seemed to scream out their suburban normalities even louder than usual. A small flock of birds set off and moved through the dusty orange light.

"Only one more day," he said aloud as he watched the aerial formations. "And then I'll be free, too."

* * *

Ron groaned as he pushed away from the dinner table. "I think you outdid yourself, Mum," he commented finishing his last bit of strawberry trifle. _'She must be feeling guilty about this morning. Nearly all of my favorites in one m-' _Ron never did finish his thought as he slumped forward onto the table.

"Quick! Bill, George, get him up into his room." Both jumped up and supported their gently snoring brother between them.

"Cor, really goes out doesn' he?" George laughed as they headed for the stairs.

"What'd you do, Mum?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Oh that. I slipped a sleeping potion into his pudding. You didn't want him to be around when your father starts his family meeting in a few minutes, did you?" She said slyly as she began to bustle about the kitchen. "Fred, Charlie, clear the table so we can get started soon."

Both brothers grumbled about having to do "girls' work" but did it anyway out of fear of their mother's unpredictable temper. Soon the kitchen was back to rights.

Mrs. Weasley started to make tea while everyone else began to filter into the living room. Mr. Weasley was already sitting in one of the overstuffed (well, at one time, overstuffed) armchairs; Fred and George were seated on the extra long sofa facing the fire, while Bill and Charlie sat on the settee opposite their father.

Knowing she would end up being the center of attention no matter what, Ginny sat between Fred and George. The family clock chimed half-past seven and Mrs. Weasley came in with a tray full of teacups and biscuits and began pouring out.

Noticing that Arthur was eager to get this over with, Molly left the tray on the centralized coffee table and went to sit next to her husband.

"Now," Mr. Weasley paused to clear his throat. "I want all of you to understand what I'm about to tell you and remember that in times like these it is essential for us to stick together and offer each other our support.

"This Monday, Ginny received a letter."

"That hardly seems like news," Fred whispered loudly causing his twin to chuckle. Mrs. Weasley quelled the outburst with her hard stare.

"As I was about to say, this letter was from Harry. As you all know from the emergency meeting that same night, the Dark Lord is preparing for a big push. What wasn't mentioned was who is an integral piece to brining about His defeat." He paused and looked over at Ginny, causing her brothers' eyes to look that way as well.

"There's no way - "

"Not our little Gin-Gin - "

"We won't let that happen - "

Mr. Weasley raised his hand for silence. "I know that all of you want to protect your sister. But, as I was told this morning, we all have a duty to fulfill. Even though we may not like what we have to do, we have to face it with purpose and courage."

"That still doesn't explain why it has to be Ginny. Why her?" Charlie asked and the others nodded and muttered in agreement.

"Perhaps you should ask her. I'm still not sure myself."

Ginny could feel six pairs of eyes boring into her, waiting for some kind of explanation.

"Well," she began tentatively. "I don't know anything for certain, mind you, but I think I know why it has to be me that helps Harry." Ginny paused to bring both of her legs up to sit cross legged on the sofa. "Harry was the one to save me from the Chamber during my first year. From that ordeal, a bond was created between us. During my fourth and fifth years, Harry and I began to talk a lot more," she decided to leave out the part about actually dating Harry, Ron was the only person in her family who knew about that.

"I was the only person who could understand how it felt to be controlled and manipulated by Riddle. So, I think that Harry needs me now because we both understand how Riddle's mind operates. Together we have a better chance of finding a way to defeat him."

"And explain how two underage wizards can hope to bring down one of the most evil wizards ever, where so may others have failed before," George commented wrapping his arm around Ginny's shoulders, protectively.

"Yes, I'm not too sure of that myself. Harry wrote about some kind of training, but beyond that. . . . " She shrugged her shoulders.

The room became still as everyone began to think through their predicament. Mrs. Weasley sat sipping her tea with Arthur staring blindly into his hands; Fred and George were staring at Ginny, still trying to absorb her newly acquired importance, while Ginny leaned back on the sofa to stare at the ceiling. Only Bill and Charlie seemed to be attempting to find a solution.

"We'll have to train you," Bill said shattering the silence.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, puzzled.

"Well, each of us are good at something. I've already been assigned to check the wards protecting Grimmauld Place and Harry's other estates and to help him with his charm work. I could easily teach you at the same time, maybe some curses too.

"Charlie could work with you guys on magical creatures and some dueling; and those two. . . . Well, I'm sure they'd be good for target practice." Charlie and Ginny broke out into deep laughter while the twins fumed resentfully.

"HEY! We know stuff too," George huffed.

"Yeah, we've been inventing potions and transfiguring things long before our days at Hogwarts. Who better to learn from?"

"None better, I suspect," Ginny said placatingly and patted each on the leg.

"This gives us a very good place to start from," Mr. Weasley beamed. "I'm surprised that you're all taking this so well."

"I think by now we've learned that once Ginny's got her teeth into something there is no stopping her," said Charlie, relaxing into his seat.

Ginny felt her cheeks growing warm. "Stop."

"Besides, if you and mum have accepted this, it doesn't leave us much right to be upset about it," George remarked.

Mrs. Weasley laughed. _'How well they know their sister. I can't believe - '_

Suddenly there was a screeching and a scrape of wingtips upon stone coming from the fireplace.

WHOOSH!

A giant cloud of black poured out of the fire and quickly covered everything in its path. The Weasleys were all smudged in soot and coughing trying to find fresh air to breath and didn't notice that an equally ragged owl had appeared and had landed on the arm of Mrs. Weasley's chair.

"Who's it from?" Bill asked pointing to his mother.

Mr. Weasley quickly untied the letter and expected the owl to fly off, but it stayed with its large yellow eyes staring at him.

"It's to your mother and me. From Hermione?" his voice was quizzical as thought he didn't' quite understand.

"For you -" Fred asked.

"Not Ron?" his twin finished.

"It must be important," Ginny quipped. "Read it, Dad."

Mr. Weasley's eyes were already running down the page. "Oh dear. . . . Oh dear. . . . Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"But what does it say, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Weasley, now thoroughly worried.

"Here," Arthur said handing her the paper.

Molly took it and began to read aloud:

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley –

I was wondering if it would be convenient for me to spend the remainder of the holidays with you at the Burrow. I don't wish to go into detail, but suffice it to say that I am no longer welcome in my parents' home. If you could pick me up sometime between nine and four this Friday, I would be very grateful. Love, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley paused to wipe away a tear.

"Wait there's a post script. 'Please don't tell Ron about this yet. I couldn't bear it if he were upset about my coming.' Oh, the poor dear."

"But what does all that mean?" Ginny asked, shaking her head slightly. "What could've happened, do you think?"

"I don't know, dear. I guess we'll just have to wait to find out until she's ready to tell us."

"Fred, George, what are you doing Friday morning?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Rescuing Hermione, now," Fred said forcefully. "Not welcome by your own parents? It's unthinkable."

"Just because we haven't been smart enough to throw the pair of you out on your ears," Mrs. Weasley chipped, "Doesn't mean that there aren't those who do."

"You'd miss us too much to wish us gone, mum," George said sweetly before becoming all business. "What time should we get her, do you think, Dad?"

Mr. Weasley leaned back and ran a hand through his disappearing hair. "I would say shortly after nine. We will be moving Harry at that time. Perhaps you could . . . That gives me an idea!"

That said, Mr. Weasley jumped from his seat and headed for the writing desk in the corner and quickly scribbled a note. "This could be just the distraction that Moody and Dumbledore could use to lure the Death Eaters away. Where's Pig?"

No sooner had he asked than the tiny owl zoomed into the room, clipping Bill's earring along the way. "Since when does he come when called?" Mr. Weasley asked disbelieving. He shrugged and tied the note to the small bird's outstretched leg. As soon as he had secured the note, Pig was out of sight through the kitchen.

"If the kitchen window is open then why did you have to cause such a stir with the fire?" Mrs. Weasley asked the stately owl, who was still trying to shake off the soot.

"Pig probably went out through the door flap," commented Charlie.

"Remember, it was cool during dinner so you had Fred shut it," Bill said.

"Oh yes, I remember now."

"Um, Dad, what are we going to tell Ron?" Ginny asked while fidgeting with the cuffs on her jumper.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I had thought to tell him that I was going to spend a few weeks with Hermione, but now that she'll be coming here. . . ."

"Ah yes," Mr. Weasley steepled his hands under his chin. "This does make it all more complex."

"Wait. Why wasn't Harry worried about the rest of us finding out about the two of you?" Bill asked in mock indignation.

"Oh. I don't doubt that he is, or was, scared for his very life," Ginny gasped mischievously. "But, I guess he figured since you were all in the Order anyway – and nowhere near as thick about these things – you would have found out regardless.

"Plus, there's Ron's temper. Harry knew Ron'd go spar if he found out about our being together."

"Too true. Ruddy prat-"

"Watch your language!" Mrs. Weasley warned.

"Sorry, Mum, but he doesn't know how to hold in his mad," George finished remembering the outburst over the morning's breakfast.

"Exactly. That's why Harry wanted to make sure I had a good line to feed 'im. I'm sure even Ron would notice me missing for more than a month."

"Dear, I'm afraid you'll have to tell him about all this eventually. Why not do it now before anyone can get hurt?" Molly asked quietly.

"Mum, can't you see-" Ginny's plea was interrupted by Charlie's booming laugh.

"Oh that would burn him up!"

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" asked Fred, dryly.

"I think I know of a way we could keep Ron out of the loop, for awhile."

"Go on then," Mr. Weasley said leaning forward in his chair.

"Remember Leila Buchanan? She and I were in the same year; now she's a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies. We could say that I called up a favor and Ginny's off at some training camp for the summer."

"Wow! Now I wish I really could be doing that."

"And since the Harpies are and all-girls team, there's no way that Ron could try to sneak off and check out the story."

"Oh Charlie, you're the greatest!" Ginny leapt from her seat and into Charlie's lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a loud kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," blushing a violent shade of pink, Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "What else are older brothers for than to keep their baby sister out of trouble?"

Not knowing exactly what to say, Ginny just smiled and made herself more comfortable in her brother's arms. The quiet family moment, however, was disturbed by the chiming of the family clock.

"Nine o'clock," Mrs. Weasley announced. "Shouldn't you boys be getting back to your flats?"

"Yeah, in a minute, mum," Bill said inclining his had towards Ginny and then to the stairs.

"Alright then. Arthur, let's head on up. You have to be in early tomorrow and I need to look in on Ron. Sleep well."

"G'night Mum. Dad."

Bill watched as his parents climbed the stairs and were soon out of sight. "Right, now we can really get started."

"What's all this about?" asked Ginny.

"We're merely fulfilling a fundamental clause in our brotherly contract," Fred said, trying to look serious.

"And what, exactly, does this particular clause entail?" Each of her brothers began to turn a warm pink and looked intently into the carpet.

"Well, Gin," began Charlie. "You see, there comes a time-"

"In every person's life," Bill continued. "When certain-"

"Situations need to be discussed," Fred finished.

"Oh no. I am not going to have this conversation with the four of you." _'How had they managed to get out that much and not die of embarrassment?' _Not that Ginny was a prude or an innocent, but to be talking about these types of things with her brothers was a different matter

Ginny started to rise from the settee, but George walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table. "Look. We don't want to have to talk about this anymore than you do. Believe me."

"Mum'd probably just talk 'bout all the lovely things," said Fred, sitting next to his twin. "And I doubt Dad would be able to get out two words on the subject."

"So, it's left to us to make sure that you understand what can happen," Charlie ended, seriously.

"Fine. If it'll make the lot of you feel better to tell me about all of this, I'll listen. Just remember, I'm no shrinking violet, and I'm not as naïve as I know you'd all like to think I am."

"No Weasley is ever innocent," chuckled Bill. "But I do doubt how much you know; so, let's start at the beginning. When was your first kiss?"

'_Ugh! Who do they think they are, anyway? Even Mum doesn't as about this stuff.'_ During my fourth year to Michael Corner."

Four pairs of eyes instantly hardened and committed the name to memory, fully intending to extract some brotherly justice. "And . . . ?" Fred said, encouragingly.

"And nothing. It was just a few kisses. Nothing you could qualify as earth shattering."

"Precisely. Now, do you know why it didn't feel like that?"

"Not really. I just thought he was a bad kisser."

Bill winced a little at her non-pulsed answer, but carried on. "The reason that you didn't feel that earth shattering feeling, as you called it, was because he wasn't your soulmate."

"Oh please," Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, he's not," commented George. "Haven't you ever wondered why there are so many old curses that could only be broken by true love or its kiss? Or why marriage is so important to wizards, even the muggleborns who've grown up knowing about divorce?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Ah, our poor little sister," sniffed Fred as he made to wipe away a tear.

"What?" Ginny shrugged her voice hardening. "I still don't see where you're trying to go with this!"

"Let me try and put this a simpler way," Charlie said softly. "We know that you and Harry are going to be alone, together, at Grimmauld, and there are certain . . . things that are bound to happen."

"So you think that I. . . . That Harry would?" While Ginny had wondered what it would be like to be with Harry, especially once he began to sign his letters with "love", she hadn't thought to actually take the idea as far as her brothers were implying.

"Gin-Gin," interrupted Fred. "We all know what it's like to be a teenage boy – filled with hormones and stuff – and it's just that . . . there's always a chance."

"Look, this is getting us nowhere, so I'll just say it," Bill said frustratedly and turned two shades redder. "The reason we're trying to protect you is that when two people have . . . relations, they become linked, forever. If they're not soulmates, then their lives will be very difficult and cut short."

"But, if they are soulmates, then whatever life dishes out they'll be able to get through. Basically what we're trying to say in a rather drawn out way," Charlie paused to take a breath. "Is don't do anything until you're absolutely positive. We wouldn't be able to forgive ourselves if you, or Harry for that matter, got hurt."

They sat in silence; the four brothers kept their eyes, full of love and concern, upon their sister. Ginny, now sitting wedged between Bill and Charlie, could feel her brothers' anxiety over the unknown pulsating through the room.

"I appreciate what you guys are doing, but there's really no reason to worry. There's nothing going on between Harry and me. Even if there were, you can rest assured that I wouldn't be doing that. Not yet, anyway," she said with a wink.

"We know that Gin," said George. "We just had to make sure you knew about this serious stuff."

"Well, I didn't, not really, but I get it now."

The clock chimed out the ten o'clock hour. "Guess we should all be heading home. Tell mum I won't be here for breakfast," Bill added as he rose from the seat. "Fleur's making crepes."

"Wait, I still have one question. How did you guys know about all this stuff?"

"Comes from being in love," Fred remarked. Touching his bruised cheek, he apparated with a loud crash.

"Don't worry. It'll all make sense soon enough," George and Bill left together with two small pops.

All too soon Charlie and Ginny were alone in the living room with only the clock and the creakings of the house settling into the night to disturb the stillness.

"Some night, huh?"

Ginny gave a breathy laugh. "You could say that again."

"You're not angry with us, are you?" Charlie asked to his fingers.

"For what? Being a bunch of overprotective, worrisome twits? No."

"Good, because we've been waiting for this to happen for some time now."

"Waiting for what?"

"Well, we've always known you had a crush on Harry. That was just hero worship, I think. Then he became friends with Ron and especially after what happened your first year, we - Bill and I, actually – knew you two would end up together."

Ginny slumped into the settee. "Charlie," she said exasperated. "I'm getting really tired of all this double talk. If you're going to say something, just say it. Please."

"Alright," Charlie leaned back into his seat. "When Bill was in his third year he took Divinations."

"I didn't know that!"

"Just that one year. Anyway, he had stayed after one lesson and Trelawney, batty old bird that she is, had a vision."

"About . . . ?"

"She said. . . . Damn, I hope I'm remembering this right. She said, 'The scars of the Boy Who Lived can only be healed by the first female child in the Weasley tree in over a millennia, born after him in the month of Augustus. Twice he will rescue her without thought and twice more with thoughts of only her.' Bill said there was something else after that, but he refused to tell me the rest. You'll have to pry that out of him yourself."

How could this be possible? Ginny could feel her whole body trembling. _'How could there be this enormous prediction about me and I not know a thing about it? Dumb question; most things involving Harry or Riddle are kept shrouded in mystery.'_

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," Charlie looked at her, a gleam of conviction in his eye. "Someone mentions something like that you're not likely to forget it. I'm sure Bill could describe the whole scene down to what socks he was wearing that day if you asked him."

"But if you've known about this, why didn't one of you tell me?"

"And make you a target? Or worse, make you into a self-fulfilling prophecy? No. If it happened it was going to happen. Bill and I agreed not to do anything to hasten its arrival."

"I guess I can see your point."

"Thanks for that," chuckled Charlie. "Now, let's get to bed. I have to teach some rookies how to convince a dragon to let them ride it tomorrow."

"Sounds like fun."

They were nearly to the second floor land when Ginny gasped. "Dammit."

"What?"

"I wanted to ask Dad why Harry's already received his Underage Waiver and I haven't."

"Don't worry. It'll all work out in the end," he leaned over and kissed Ginny on her forehead. "Good night, Gin."

"Night, Charlie. Oh, by the way. . . . "

Charlie was already down the hall, the door already opened before him. "What is it?"

"When are you going to let the rest of us meet your fiancée?"

"How - How did you know about that? We haven't told anyone yet."

Ginny sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. "Back when the Championship final was going on, one of the commentators said that she had become engaged to a dragon tamer working in Romania. And not even an hour ago you mention Leila by name and your eyes took on this kind of sparkle that I've only seen twice before: once was between mum and dad when dad got attacked and ended up in St. Mungo's, the other time was when Bill got attacked by that damned werewolf and Fleur stood her ground and refused to leave him. I think it only happens when you love a person that deeply."

"It's a good thing no one else is as clever as you are," Charlie laughed. "Otherwise Mum would either be demanding to meet her or looking up new curses. Don't worry you'll get to meet her soon enough. She'll be coming to the wedding with me, but until then can you promise to just keep this between the two of us?"

"Deal, but it's going to cost you."

"Imp. How much?"

"I'll let you know later," Ginny laughed evilly and quickly retreated into her room.

"Ugh. . . . Girls are the root of all the troubles of the world, I'd swear it!"


	7. Operation Homecoming

Chap 7 – Operation Homecoming

The morning of July fourth dawned brightly. An alarm on the bedside table went off at a quarter till six. As the loud bell faded from the room, Harry tried to stretch, but only managed to stub one of his toes on the footboard and cracked his left wrist against the bedpost.

Yet he smiled; this would be the last time he would ever have to wake up in a bed that was much too small in a room that was little bigger than the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry sat up and quietly padded down the hall to the bathroom. After locking the door behind him, he turned on the shower. He stripped out of his t-shirt and faded flannel bottoms. Glancing at the mirror, Harry noticed how much had changed about himself.

Gone was the small, scrawny kid who had been replaced by a tall, wiry-muscled man; he may have even managed to grow a few more inches since leaving Hogwarts. Satisfied with his transformations, he stepped under the spray.

The warm water pounded against his stiff muscles and sluiced over his body, relaxing. Steam began to fill the small bath and still Harry stood under the spray while his mind drifted away.

He began to mentally tick off rooms and cleaning tasks that needed to be done, clothes and supplies to be bought. As he was thinking about his plans to surprise Ginny with a special shopping venture, he froze.

Immediately his mind was wiped clear and the most spectacular sight came into sharp focus before Harry's eyes. Standing under another spray was a slim, gently curved girl. Most of her body was hidden by her long hair and her head was thrown back. She was singing.

The sound was so pure; it reminded Harry of a phoenix song, except for the lush, seductive quality it possessed. _'Who is this girl?'_ he wondered and the image changed to focus upon her face. Nothing looked familiar, then, a lock of red hair fell across her left eye.

"If you've used up all of our hot water, so help me boy!" Uncle Vernon's insistent knock and bellowing forced Harry back to reality, albeit reluctantly.

Turning off the water, he quickly tried to dry with the ragged towel – the only one Harry was allowed to use. The scrap of cloth was barely bigger than the tea towel that Dobby, the house elf, had worn. Harry put his pajama pants back on and walked out.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were waiting in the hall with their usual sour looks in place. "Boy, if that water goes cold on me, I swear -"

"Swear what?" Harry interrupted, drawing himself up to his full height to tower over his uncle. "That you'll lock me in the cupboard? Been there. Shut me away in my room without food or outside contact? That's an old trick. Get over yourself."

Uncle Vernon's face shifted to an angry red and his large mustache trembled in his rage. "I will not tolerate such insolence in my home! I WANT YOU OUT! Go to those shabby freaks you're so keen about, I don't care wh-"

Within seconds of finishing his last word, Vernon Dursley felt his back being slammed into the molding around the bathroom door, followed by a loud cracking. Harry had his left had lodged in the many rolls of Vernon's neck while his right hand held his wand pointing it at his chest.

"If you ever say another derogatory word about the Weasleys, my parents, or myself, I'll make sure you live to regret it."

"That's an empty threat," Vernon tried to move but found he couldn't. "I know you're not allowed to use that . . . that thing."

"Care to check that statement?" Harry sent out a flash of red sparks. "Now, since we seem to understand who holds the upper hand now, I want you to go about your business. Don't worry, in another," he glanced at his watch. "Two and a half hours I'll be gone and we'll never have to see or think about each other again."

Harry relaxed his grip and allowed the adrenaline to leave his body. He turned away from his speechless uncle and wide-eyed aunt and proceed to his room.

With the door closed, Harry walked over and sat heavily on the bed. "That felt amazing!" he said to himself. Nothing, not even flying, had ever left him feeling so liberated. He had finally been able to tell off Uncle Vernon and he'd be leaving soon. The only thing that could make the morning any better would be to figure out who the girl from the shower was.

The shape of the face was oddly familiar but the only redhead that he knew was Ginny. '_But since when does Ginny have a body like that?'_ Harry wondered. Not that he didn't _want_ Ginny to be the girl he had seen, he did, he just wanted to know how. Sure, he'd always known that Ginny was cute, but how had she gone from good friend cute to gorgeous in a little over a month?

The school robes were exceedingly bulky and they did manage to hide quite a bit, so there was the possibility that he could have missed it.

That still left the voice. '_Why keep something that incredible a secret?'_

_The same reason that no one knows about your ability to play the piano,_ his inner mind responded.

A grunt was Harry's only response.

While he proceeded to get dressed, Harry mind was occupied with picturing Ginny as the mystery girl, there was a quiet knock on the door. "What?"

The knob turned and in the opening stood his cousin, Dudley. He closed the door carefully behind him but made no attempt to move further into the room. Weighing about twenty three stone and close to six foot, he overwhelmed the small room and yet, Dudley was staring down into his clasped hands, his face pale.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, annoyed.

"Is it true that you . . . you beat up my dad?"

"Beat him up? No. I simply showed him who held the upper hand," he replied offhandedly. "Why do you ask?"

Dudley walked over to the desk chair and sat down. It creaked loudly under the weight, but remained intact. For the first time, he looked up from his hands and into Harry's eyes. "Could you teach me how you did it?"

Was this the same boy who had terrorized his childhood coming to him for advice on intimidation? Harry almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but somehow kept a straight face. "Why would you need to know that? Planning to show up the ten year olds down the lane or something more dastardly?"

There was a long pause; Dudley's face fell quicker than if he had found himself in an empty sweets shop. "You think you're the only one Dad goes after? Remember two summers ago, what happened in the alley?"

How could he ever forget; that incident had almost been the end of him and had nearly ruined him. He nodded, curious to see what his cousin was leading up to. "Ever since then, Dad's been a tyrant. Used to be you were the only one he'd get angry with but after that, you know, me getting sick over nothing-"

"You're lucky you couldn't see what those things really were," Harry said.

"Whatever, but from then one he was all over me. Things he had never given a damn about in the past, like grades or me mates, were now all he'd go on about. Said that I was a disappointment; a worthless whelp that'd never amount to anything."

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" spat Harry.

"Maybe," shrugged Dudley. "I could deal with all that stuff. It wasn't until he started going after Mum that I nearly lost it."

"Why would he go after Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked with his brow furrowed.

Dudley just shook his head causing his multiple chins to wobble around his face. "But it's gotten even worse just this past year. Every time I've come home for a weekend, he's always been yelling at her. Sometimes it's just over bills or about me and school but a couple of times – and these were the worst – he started going off on m-m-"

"Magic," supplied Harry.

"Yeah. Kept saying it was because of her dirty, abnormal blood that they've always had so many problems. Like him getting passed over at work, us having to take you in and what not." Dudley paused to stretch his hands which had become clenched into white knuckled fists and took a breath. "He said some other stuff, not sure if I remember it aright. Something about Granma and Grandad Evans being _squids_?"

"Squibs."

"Right. How he never should have married her, but he was under a spell or something. Usually, Dad had really worked himself up by this point, and would get rough and knock her around a bit."

"Why didn't you try and stop him?" Harry asked hotly.

"I did try. The first time I got pushed into the wall and sprained my wrist. Another time I took a punch and got two ribs cracked. Fat lot of good it did. Bastard still went after her."

Harry now sat on the edge of the bed, facing his cousin, seething in silent anger. He wasn't simply upset that his uncle was bullying his much smaller wife, but it was the fact that so much information about his family and his past had been kept from him.

He was less than a month away from his seventeenth birthday and there was so much he didn't know. A handful of factoids about his father and the Potter family, while all he knew about his mum's was that Petunia was his aunt. And just five minutes ago he'd learned that his grandparents had been squibs.

Something deep within him snapped. Harry's mind touched upon every occasion when something had been kept from him: his magical blood when he was eleven; Dumbledore's omission of the role he had to play in Voledmort's defeat and keeping him under lock and key and many other times and all for the same reason. "It's for your own good." No more, Harry wanted, no, needed, answers, now.

He would put an end to the lies and uncover the truth; and if along the way he got to lean on Uncle Vernon again, then that was a price he could live with. A slightly manic gleam shone in his eyes as he got up from the bed and headed for the door.

"Come on. I'd hate for you to miss this." Harry left the room with Dudley following in his wake with a scared, yet inquiring look on his face.

As he walked down the stairs, through the front room, Harry reigned in his anger. It would not do to explode all at once. He hesitated in the doorway, observing his adversary.

Uncle Vernon sat with his back to the door. He held the morning paper open before him and had another news programme tuned onto the wide-screen television set, which took up nearly the entire wall.

Aunt Petunia flitted about the stove arranging eggs and kippers upon a platter in an excruciatingly exact manner. Looking more closely, Harry saw that even thought it was very warm, Petunia was wearing long sleeves and seemed to be favoring her left leg.

She turned from the counter with the platter held before he; her hands began to tremble as she neared the table.

Harry walked up and attempted to wrest the plate from his aunt.

"What are you doing?" Petunia said through her clenched horsy-teeth.

"Trying to help you if you'd stop being so stubborn," Harry answered just as quietly.

"Where's that breakfast, Petunia? There'll be no hope for you this time if the bacon's burned again!"

"It's a good thing she made kips today, then, isn't it?" Vernon sputtered and tried to hide his flushed face by sipping his coffee. Harry sat the plate in the center of the table and took his normal place across from his uncle.

"Interesting reading?"

Uncle Vernon harrumphed from behind his paper. "Nothing about _your_ kind."

"No matter," he shrugged. "I heard some much more intriguing news this morning. Something a little closer to home," Harry said and glanced over to his aunt and cousin who were standing in the middle of the room.

"I haven't a clue what you're rabbitting on about," Uncle Vernon folded up the paper and started to fill his plate, deliberately ignoring Harry's bait. This only added to the fury waiting to be released inside of his nephew.

"You're a sadistic bastard. Did you think I wouldn't realize what's been going on here this past year?"

"What happens in my home is none of your concern," Vernon said. His face was now becoming a livid purple.

"Didn't I tell you, not even an hour ago; that I would see you pay if you ever did anything that could harm my family?" Harry watched as the angry flush fled form his uncle's face and sat gulping air like a fish. "Glad to see you're not that stupid. Now, what kind of punishment would be suitable?" he stood and walked over to his silent aunt. "What do you think, Aunt Petunia?"

A pregnant pause filled the room and the desire for retribution shown through Petunia Dursley's eyes whilst dozens of images of possible punishments vied for selection. "I want him," she began quietly. "To feel - "

"Petunia, you can't be going along with this?" Uncle Vernon said as he shoved away from the table. "The boy's off his rocker! And you and I, we may have our tiffs, but we make out in the end."

"No. I won't stand for this any longer. I'm tired." Harry looked and saw a woman aged far beyond the forty-sum years he knew her to be. "I'm tired of having to tiptoe about and be the doting housewife when I'd love nothing more than to smother you while you sleep!" her voice wavered and tears of anger and frustration shimmered at the corners of her eyes. She looked over at Harry, and took a deep breath.

"Harry, I want him to feel every ounce of pain that he has ever caused. To anyone; and I want him to feel as though he were this big," she gestured. "Completely helpless."

Harry pondered his aunt's request. There were a couple of ways he could accomplish the goal. He could summon a Furie, but that would be too quick, and kind. What to choose?

As he was thinking, Uncle Vernon was in no mood to stand and wait around for his fate to come down. Vernon Dursley had begun to edge towards the door the moment Petunia had suggested his means of penance. Halfway there he found his exit blocked by his son, who until now, he hadn't noticed was even in the room.

"Stand aside, boy!"

"NO! YOU'RE FINALLY GOING TO GET YOURS!"

The two large men began to grapple in the doorway. Vernon had almost overpowered his son when he suddenly found himself in a hold. It seemed that love for his mother had won out over his father's love of himself. Still struggling to stay in control, Dudley called out again, "Hurry up, Harry!"

Removing his wand from his back pocket, Harry had it trained on his uncle's wide chest. "Hold him still," he murmured the Shrinking Charm and Uncle Vernon's movements ceased.

The spell came on in bursts. Beginning at his head, a small pop sounded and it looked as though it had disappeared. His arms and legs followed; he now looked like a large bouncing ball with a tweed pattern. Finally his middle deflated and shrunk and standing where he had been was a miniaturized Vernon, about six inches tall.

Dudley bent down and picked up his father. "Wicked! How'd'cha do that?"

"Better if you don't know," Harry said. He walked over to the cabinets and took out a pickling jar and its lid. After poking a few holes in the lid he returned to his cousin, who was now stretching and then tossing Uncle Vernon into the air. "Put him in."

"Do I have to?" Dudley whined, deftly catching his father. "I can think of – ouch!" he slammed Vernon into the jar. "Mangy bugger bit me!"

As Harry screwed on the lid he thought back to the train ride home at the end of fourth year. Hermione had been able to catch Rita Skeeter in her animagus form. When she had produced the jar, Harry had been elated. This felt even better!

'_Good thing Hermione's not here_ Harry thought as he watched Uncle Vernon pounding against the glass. _She'd be impressed with the charm, and then go into some tirade about humanitarianism or judicial procedures. Who needs that?_

Half of the punishment was taken care of, but now what? How was he going to make sure the Uncle Vernon paid for a lifetime of bullying and pain?

Then an idea struck him; it was perfect and wickedly just. The spell was unbelievably old and complicated. Harry hadn't even known that such a spell was even possible until he had stumbled across it one night while in Dumbledore's office.

At the time, Harry was supposed to have been working on _A Beginner's Guide to Legilimancy_, but the introductory work was so pointlessly tedious when compared with the Expert levels. During one of these lessons, Dumbledore had been called away by Professor Snape about the latest Death Eater plans.

'_Now's my chance,'_ Harry had thought to himself and set about memorizing as many of the advanced spells as he could – no easy task considering the book had been upside-down on Dumbledore's desk.

Reviewing the words a final time, Harry placed the glass on the table, took a step back, and began. "_Poena reverto totus memoria,"_ every word was crisp and punctuated with a flick of his wand and ending with a rather showy bit of interloping arcs and a final flick.

For a few seconds Harry stared at his uncle, unsure if the spell had really worked. Then Uncle Vernon fell to his knees clutching his stomach only to be thrown against the glass.

Harry smiled and slipped his wand back into his pocket before picking up the jar. He handed the jar, which now contained a convulsing Uncle Vernon, over to his Aunt Petunia.

"What did you do to him?" Petunia asked as she stared into the jar.

"It's called the Reverse Memory Charm. Basically what it does is make him relive every time that he has ever hurt anyone, but from their perspective. So, he's the one doing all the damage to himself."

"How long will it last for?" asked Dudley from behind his mother's shoulder.

"I'm not sure." Aunt Petunia gasped. "Once he's relived everything then he should return to normal, though he will remember everything that's happened," Harry ran a hand through his perpetually untidy hair. "I'd say about three or four days, but as cruel as he was it wouldn't be surprising if it took more than a week."

The minutes ticked by as Aunt Petunia watched her husband writhing in his silent torture.

"Now, I've given you something that you've always wanted. I expect the same in return."

"Like what?"

"I want to know everything you know about my mother and the Evans family."

Aunt Petunia walked over to the sink, gave the jar a violent shaking and placed it on the window sill. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter; she sighed audibly, straightened her back, and when she turned around again her normal icy glare was back in its place. "Alright. Just know that I don't ever want to talk about this again." With her head held high she left the kitchen.

Harry, followed by Dudley, entered the sitting room and sat – Harry into one of the wing chairs and Dudley onto the sofa. Aunt Petunia entered from the hall carrying an old, dusty box. Setting it down with a dull thud, she took the seat next to Dudley.

"Shortly after Vernon and I were married, he had me pack up all of my things from the past and chuck it, but I was able to keep some things hidden away." With a kind of reverence, Aunt Petunia removed the lid and set it aside.

From somewhere near the top she removed a silver antique frame and passed it to Harry. "That's Aidan and Daphne Evans, your grandparents. We were on holiday in Scotland."

Harry took the picture and was shocked at what he saw. Staring out at him were two young girls, laughing and holding each others' hand. They were wearing matching maxi coats with fur collars and patent leather shoes. The girls looked so different, and yet alike. Lily, his mother, had a flawlessly cheerful face surrounded by bouncy auburn curls which contrasted with Petunia's older, more solemn gaze and nearly stick-straight blond hair.

Behind them, standing next to a large stone disk covered in runes, was a man and a woman in their very early thirties. The man was in a greatcoat and tam while the woman looked the height of fashion in her calf-length Zhivago.

"That was when they told us that they were squibs and that there really was a magical world. I was ten, and father had told me that there was a slight chance that I could receive a Hogwart's letter," Petunia paused to riffle through the box and pulled out another hand full of letters. "At the time I didn't ask how that could be possible; I just hoped.

"The months passed and soon it was mid-July, but I never did receive a letter. Once the disappointment had gone away, Lily became the center of attention and I was pushed into the shadows. Nearly every night they would sit at the table and talk about different spells and potions or share what they knew about the Otherworld, as they would call it." She handed Harry a few more photos.

They were all of his mother, sitting at a table with huge books open before her and either parent at her side. Aunt Petunia was there too, but now at the far end of the table surrounded by her own books and either a resentful or jealous look on her face.

"Three years passed and Mum and Da finally got their wish: an owl flew into the kitchen one morning with a letter held in its beak. They were so pleased. 'We've got a witch in the family!' And all of a sudden, relatives I'd never known existed began showing up with all kinds of gifts and surprises. All of them were for Lily. What did I get from their visits? Nothing. Not so much as a glance in my direction, that's what!"

'_Sounds like Christmas when Aunt Marge would visit,'_ Harry thought to himself. "Who were those people, though?"

"They were mostly from Dad's side – they'd been a part of that world for sometime. The first witch had been around during the late eighteenth century. Dad was the only squib; Mum never really talked about her past, so," she shrugged and began digging around in the box again.

"So I could be going to classes with relatives that I never knew about?"

A small laugh tinged with sadness escaped her lips. "No. Once Lily got involved with your father a lot of things began to happen, and all very quickly.

"I was about seventeen – Lily was in her fourth year, I think – when the Evans family began to wither away. It was like they were being checked off of a list. Some of them went inauspiciously enough; traceable, mundane illnesses or accidents, you know. It wasn't until some of the younger members began to fall that Dad got worried.

"That summer, he refused to let us come home. Lily went to the Potters and I stayed with a friend of mine, Justine Sinclair, who incidentally, lived right across the street from Vernon. Then in mid-August, I received a call asking me to come and clean out the flat that Dad had been renting. The landlady said they had just disappeared one morning."

"Did they ever show up again?" asked Dudley.

Petunia shook her head slowly. "The police never turned up any bodies that matched their descriptions. Dad had been convinced he would be the next one to go. Back then, I'd thought he was mad, until I got that call at least."

"What happened to you and my mum after that?" Harry asked as he was hanging on to his aunt's every word.

"Lily got shuffled around between her friends and a professor or two until your father's parents finally took her in, permanently. That September, I married Vernon and didn't have much contact with her except the few letters I sent at holidays and her birthday. She was always sending things to me though," Aunt Petunia passed Harry the letters she'd been holding and a shoebox from near the bottom of the bow. "I don't know why now, but I kept everything she ever sent me from school, mum and dad did as well."

"But I thought you hated my mum."

"Sometimes I did. Once I was married, I had to hate everything from my past if I wanted to have any kind of a life. I never truly hated her; just disliked a lot of the times."

"Okay," Harry sighed and shook his head, trying to get all of this new insight to fit in with the old. "What do you know about my mum and dad? Like how they were together or why they had to go into hiding."

"Lily wrote about James in almost every letter, so you can read those. The only time I saw them together was at their wedding."

"You weren't there! I have pictures of it and you're not in a single one. Plus you said that you'd rather die than have to be in a room with all of those freaks."

"Yeah, I guess I did say that, but it was only a cover. One of those pictures is of the wedding party, right?" Harry gave a small nod. "The woman, two people from your mother, in the blue robes with the flower hat that was me. Vernon had forbidden me to go, so Lily made a potion that'd make me look like someone else. That way, even if pictures somehow did get back to Vernon, he'd never know it had been me.

"But her disappearing, I didn't know a thing about that. I just thought she was busy with her own life and didn't have the time to check in."

Everyone in the room sat in silence. In a little over half an hour, everything that Harry had ever thought about his aunt was turned upside-down. She was no longer the bitter, conspiring woman, but had turned into a real person with a past.

A young hurt girl neglected because she didn't have powers; a scared, abandoned teenager reaching out and getting into even deeper trouble. Yet, there was still something nagging at Harry from deep within his stomach.

"You say that you never hated my mother. Then why did you treat me little better than an indebted servant?"

"I'm afraid that was, once again, Vernon's doing. If it had been up to me, I would have raised you and Dudley more equally," Dudley gave a small gasp; he found the idea of being raised no differently from his cousin unfathomable. "You'd have had a room to grow up in, your own clothes, and gifts on your birthday and Christmas; but I could never stand up to him. Whatever he said was law."

Nothing was making any sense. Harry rose from his chair and started to pace up and down the length of the fireplace. Nearly everything that he had ever known and experienced was now being colored by this rather strange, and revealing, conversation.

What was the truth and how much was someone else's cover-up?

While still in the midst of his brooding, the mantle clock chimed; nine o'clock. Harry had almost forgotten he was leaving – almost.

"_Accio_ trunk," he said and soon the trunk was bumping down the stairs and came to a gentle stop at his side. "Some people will be coming for me soon, so - " Gathering up the letters and pictures, Harry walked over to Aunt Petunia and held them out to her.

She took them and placed them back into the box. "Here. Take this with you. I'm sure some of this should have been yours all along," Petunia put the lid back on and shoved the box into Harry's hands.

"Um - Okay, I guess," Harry touched his wand to the box and whispered the shrinking charm and placed it in his pocket. "Well – um - "

The prospect of having to dole out awkward good-byes was avoided by the timely rumbling of the hearth. Green flames sprang to life in the grate as three bodies stumbled into the Dursley's sitting room.

"Wotcher, Harry!" cried a very disoriented Tonks, who fell in a sooty pile at Harry's feet.

"Alright Tonks?" asked Harry. He worked, unsuccessfully, to hide his grin as he lifted the small witch to a standing position.

"I'll be okay. Never did quite get the hand of flooing here and there." Tonks looked up from dusting off the soot and took a step back. "Cor, but you must've grown since we brought you back," he gaze traveled over him. "S'not even been a month and look at you! What are you now? Six-three?"

Harry shrugged.

"Hard to believe it, but I think you're now taller than James was," Remus Lupin said quietly from Harry's right and laid a fatherly hand on his arm. "He'd have been proud of you."

"Thanks," Harry said, unsure if there were any other thing he could've said at that moment.

Mad-Eye Moody cleared his throat. He was standing next to the table in the center of the room, looking at a golden pocket watch with one eye while his magical one was whirling around in his head with more speed than it had shown for some time. "If you're all finished with the kiss and cry, we've a tight schedule to keep to. All packed, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry walked over to the wing chair and picked up the trunk.

"Well, let's go." From one of his pockets, Moody pulled out a large tuning fork and held it out to the others. Each touched the fork; Tonks held Hedwig's cage, while Harry and Lupin had Harry's school trunk between them.

"Will you be coming back?" Dudley asked from the far side of the sofa.

Harry looked over his shoulder. He had completely forgotten that his aunt and cousin were still in the room. "I don't know. But if Vernon decides to get out of hand again, you know where I'll be."

Lupin quirked his eyebrow at Harry's words, but chose to ignore them for now.

"Alright. Three…two…one," the familiar pulling took hold behind Harry's navel and he immediately tensed for the worst. The last portkey he had touched had almost been the end of him and the rebirth of Voldemort.

Soon everything was spinning out of control. Sporadic objects flashed in and out of view; the astonished gasps of Petunia and Dudley Dursley were overcome by the howl of the rushing air. Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over and the group was touching solid ground again.

Harry stumbled and leaned heavily on his trunk willing his stomach to fall back down his throat. While still trying to calm his nausea, Harry was rapt upon the head and felt the familiar, cool trickle of the Disillusionment Charm flowing over his body.

"We need to keep moving," said Moody gruffly. "Stay close and stay quiet. Harry, you'll be behind me, then Tonks and Remus. Move out."

They had landed in a dense overgrowth of grass and shrubs. Ancient trees were densely packed and didn't allow much sunlight through their branches to the ground below. They edged their way through along a stone and mortar wall covered with ivy and other vines.

Moody stopped and held up his left hand and watched the empty car park and the street beyond. The minutes ticked by until Moody was satisfied and waved his hand and they were moving again.

The sound of a knob turning and a door cricking on its hinges reverberated through the dim stillness. Harry felt himself being tugged forward, past Moody and into the building. He slammed into a table and landed in a chair; the others followed quickly and the door closed again, plunging the room into total darkness.

_Lumos. _The tips of four wands glowed brightly to disband the gloom. Remus moved to the wall and flipped the switch, causing the others to grimace from the abrupt change.

"Well, welcome back to Grimmauld Place, Harry," said Tonks as she sank heavily into the chair across from him.

Looking around the kitchen, Harry realized that he was, indeed, back at Grimmauld. He hadn't been in the house since Christmas of his fifth year – before the death of his godfather, Sirius Black. The summer following those attacks he had spent most of his time at the Burrow with the Weasleys.

It looked as though others had avoided the old house as well. There was a dust-free path leading from the stove to the door that connected to the hall; and Harry was almost positive that the path continued on to the meeting room, but no where else.

"Doesn't The Order still use this place as a headquarters?"

"Yes," Lupin said as he sat in the chair next to Tonks. "But no one has seen much point in keeping it up now that Sirius is gone." He paused and gave a soft laugh. "At least now you'll have something to do."

Harry snorted but was cut short as Professor Dumbledore stepped out of the fire. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you here. I take it that everything went smoothly? No problems?"

"That's correct," answered Moody. "Not a Death Eater or even a crow to darken the skies, Albus."

"Good. I see that - " Dumbledore issued a quick succession of very loud sneezes. "I see that we'll need to make this old place livable once again."

Turning back to the fireplace, Dumbledore took a handful of floo powder and tossed it onto the grate. "Hogwarts School kitchens," he called and stuck his head into the flames. After a few moments Dumbledore stood up and out of the fire the house elves of Hogwarts came pouring into the kitchens of Grimmauld Place.

When the flames had extinguished, there were close to fifty elves all dressed in their toga-style work clothes and their enormous tennis ball-sized eyes kept darting between Harry and Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter!" Harry felt his chair push away from the table as his left leg was locked into a hug of sorts. "Dobby is so happy to be seeing Harry Potter again. We has all come to be helping you with your new home. And proud we are to be doing it, too."

Stepping away, Harry was now able to see the small elf which he had helped gain his freedom, over four years ago at the end of his second year. Along with his release from his previous family – the evil, malicious Malfoys – Dobby also gained the right to dress in whatever he wanted.

Today it was a mish-mash of colors: a pair of black and white striped Montrose Magpie shorts; three pairs of socks in orange, green, and purple; a painter's smock covered in a rainbow of blobs and smears and the outfit was capped off with a knitted bobble hat that Harry knew was Hermione's work.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and all of the elves turned to him. "If you could start with some of the basic cleaning, I'm sure that Mr. Potter will be able to give you more detailed instructions once we have concluded our meeting." The elves quickly began to move and pop out of the room, eager to complete their given tasks.

"Well, Harry, shall we begin the meeting?" Dumbledore asked as he sat at the head of the kitchen table.

"Yes. Let's begin."

* * *

The bright July sun filtered through the sheer curtains to land squarely across Hermione's abundant curls. Having only managed to fall asleep around four that morning, she tossed fitfully in her sleep. Finally, at a quarter until eight, Hermione gave up and resolved to face the day head on.

Grabbing an old pair of jeans and a white tank, Hermione headed for the bath. As she closed the door, she turned on the shower and happily stepped under the spray. After washing – not her hair - that took much too long the muggle-way – she dried off and wrapped up her hair.

In the middle of brushing her teeth, there was a knock on the door. "Hermione, may I come in?" he mother asked.

"Sure," she called, still brushing.

Mrs. Granger walked in and took a seat on the loo. Her body looked strained (like she was doing something she aught not) but her eyes, while sad, held a spark of determination. "Mione, I feel like I should apologise."

Hermione almost choked herself; she quickly rinsed and sat on the edge of the sink. She had gotten her stubborn, prideful nature from her mother, so apologies were rarely exchanged between the two.

"I know that we shouldn't have given you an ultimatum, but your father was adamant. I had a feeling that you'd choose magic over us, if forced."

"It wasn't that, Mum. It was - "

"Please, let me finish. If it were up to your father he'd give you a fifty pound note and be done. I know that these are hard, dangerous times and. . . . So, here," Mrs. Granger pulled a bank envelope out from an inner pocket of her lab jacket. "There's five thousand pounds in there. I had started saving it for university, but. . ." There was a long pause as Hermione took the envelope.

"I need to go before your father wonders what's about," Mrs. Granger stood and as she was turning the knob to leave, she turned around and pulled Hermione into a bone-crushing hug. "Be careful, love."

"No worries, Mum."

"Alright," Mrs. Granger smiled weakly and quietly left the room.

Hermione leaned against the wall and removed the towel to allow her hair to fall around her shoulders. "Why did she have to do that?" she asked running her fingers through the damp tresses. '_Now I feel like the bad guy. Why couldn't she have let me leave still feeling rejected?'_ Unable to come up with any answers, Hermione changed into her clothes and went back to her room.

The room felt so bare and uninviting now that nearly everything she owned was in her trunk. '_I don't think I could've managed all that without magic.' _Hermione had turned seventeen (the legal age in the wizarding world) soon after sixth year began and was now allowed to do magic outside of school, but hadn't used it much because of her parents.

Unable to stand in the empty room any longer, Hermione grabbed her wand and Athene's cage. "_Locomotor trunk,"_ she said quietly. The trunk rose a few inches off the ground and followed out of the room, to the hall. Taking a final look at the past, Hermione shut the door and walked down the stairs to the foyer.

After sitting down on the little bench by the door, she took out the morning's edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Now, more than ever, Hermione needed to know what was happening in the world around her.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacks had grown – not only in numbers, but in the magnitude- and were only going to become more frequent and violent in the months to come. Due to the Ministry of Magic's earlier denial of Voldemort's return, their forces were now trying to catch-up after the enemy had a two years' head start.

"Pompous twits," she muttered as she scanned over the articles.

More pictures of demolished buildings and the Dark Mark hovering in the sky moved on the page. The officials were re-issuing their promise to bring those responsible to justice, while warning everyone to take all the necessary precautions to ensure the public's safety.

"Don't they get it!" Hermione spat with obvious disgust. "None of this would be happening if they'd listened earlier. And now they're publishing their every defense in _The Prophet_ for every fool and dark wizard to read," she opened her trunk and shoved the paper in with more force than was necessary. When she shut the lid there came two loud explosions.

"Ah, our dear Hermione - "

"So good to see you again."

Sitting on the trunk – happy as they pleased - were the Weasley twins, Fred and George.

"What are you two doing here?"

"How soon they forget. What's happening to today's youth?"

"I don't know, Fred, but you'd think that if someone had asked for a rescue," George said giving Hermione his best annoyed stare. "They'd remember who it was they asked."

"Of course I remember who I asked. I just thought that your dad or maybe even Bill would be the one to come here; not the two of you. Anyway you're early. It's not even nine yet."

"Now that does wound us. We've become quite responsible in our old age," Fred said sagely. "Plus, how could Dad come? Didn't you hear about what happened?"

"Hear what? He's not hurt or something, is he?" Hermione panicked and grabbed George's collar.

"Easy now. You mean that Ron didn't tell you? I can't believe that."

At just the mention of Ron's name, a twitch became active just under Hermione's right eye. "No. I haven't spoken to him since school ended."

"Ah, young love. So much force and passion," George said dreamily.

"I'm not in love - "

"Save it, 'Mione. Speaking as someone a bit older, I think we can both tell when love's taken its hold. Especially if it's the fiery type," as he spoke, Fred touched his cheek, which still held the remnants of his own lover's spat.

"But, back on topic, Dad got the new spot. You know, Minister of Strategic Planning."

"How is that possible? That would've been all over the paper. I should have seen it."

"It's good to see the Ministry can keep some things under wraps," laughed George. "Only a handful of people know that Dad is the new guy calling all the shots now. He didn't want it to come out to the masses because he wanted to keep the family safe and also - "

"Dad just didn't want all the publicity. He's really very camera shy."

A small "o" formed on Hermione's lips as the larger picture unfolded in her mind. "I guess I can understand that. So, when are we going?"

Fred looked down at his watch and sprang from the trunk. "Five seconds!"

"Here. Take hold of this," George said and produced an oversized toothbrush from his left sleeve. Each one placed a hand on the brush. Hermione kept a firm grip on the owl's cage and the twins each held a handle on the trunk.

"Two…one…" Unlike other portkeys, this one seemed to reach out past the navel to the spine and all three gasped in a mixture of surprise and pain. The room began to spin and suddenly became cold and black. There was no howling wind only silence until the pulling was released and the group found themselves in a gloomy alleyway.

"Where are we? And what kind of portkey was that?" Hermione demanded as she got up from the dustbin she had landed on.

"Shh. Now we have to wait for the signal," whispered Fred as he helped his brother up, as he had managed to fall into a puddle of street filth.

A few minutes later, a crow landed on one of the above roof ledges and called out. No sooner had the shrill cawh faded than six aurors apparated into the alley.

"Good job so far. I'm really impressed with the two of you. The rest of you, let's get moving," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a commanding tone. "Miss Granger, we're going to be moving fast and we don't want you to be seen. So, we're going to place you under the Disillusioning Charm and from this point on, you're not to speak until we arrive at the final stop. Understood?"

Still in shock at the activity surrounding her, Hermione could only nod. Her things had been shrunken down and were now being handed over to George. '_Or is that Fred?'_ she thought to herself. '_Why are they going through all this now? If no one knows about Mr. Weasley, then, why all the fuss?'_

Hermione was pulled out of her musings as another auror came up to her, tapped her with his wand, and soon the spell was cast and Hermione was invisible.

"Move out."


	8. One by Owl, Two by Floo

AN: I apologize profusely. I meant to have this chapter up and finished before Christmas, that way I could knock away a lot of chap9, but the best laid plans of man - or woman, as the case is. Please forgive me and take what I do have finished as a small token of my wish to keep this story going. Don't forget to R&R!

* * *

Chap 8 – One by Owl, Two by Floo

"Move out."

At Kingsley Shacklebolt's order, the group formed a tight circle around Hermione and began to make their way out of the alley into the adjoining roadway. Even though the morning rush should have just begun to wind down, the street was eerily deserted. Still the group stopped just past the corner.

Kingsley raised his hand and signaled for the team to spread out; two went left, another two to the right and one across the street leaving Hermione and the twins to await their signal.

As soon as the auror who had crossed the road was out of sight to the left a blast of red light filled up the street.

"Death Eaters!"

"Bollocks," spat Kingsley as he turned to face the others. "Okay, I want the two of you to get her to one of the public floo stops, The Leaky Cauldron or something and from there, back home. Go. Now!" With the new orders given, he rushed into the fray to help his team.

"Come on," George said. He grabbed at Hermione's arm and led them down the right side of the road, away from the fighting.

Empty store windows and dirty doorways streamed by as they kept running. Crossing the road they turned into another alley which ended with a solid wall.

"It's a dead end," whispered Hermione.

"Shh. We know the way in," Fred whispered back. With his wand, he tapped the center brick, another up two and three to the left, and from there down four and one to the right. George did the same, in reverse.

The stones shook and wiggled in place then they began to fold back on themselves until there was a hole large enough to pass through. Once all three were through the hole closed up and they found they were in yet another alley.

"Keep moving," said Fred who was now in the lead. They wound their way through a labyrinth of crates and boxes and rubbish bins; about a dozen yards from the dead end they turned to a door.

"Mischief Masters," the twins said together. Behind the door there was a long series of bolts and locks clicking until the door opened slightly.

Both twins motioned for Hermione to go first and they followed in closely. Once inside the door quickly slammed shut and locked again.

"I think it should be okay to lift the spell now," as George spoke he thumped Hermione on the head.

"Ow!" she could feel the counter-spell flowing over her skin in warm waves until she became visible once more.

"Don't worry. We're safe in here; nobody's able to come through the backway 'cept for us,' said Fred and whispered something under his breath.

Lights sprang to life overhead and Hermione was finally able to see exactly where she was.

"Welcome to Weasley Wizard Wheezes' product development lab," George said happily.

There were two long worktables filled with different sized cauldrons, all popping and bubbling away in various colours. Glass cabinets lined the walls and every shelf seemed to be jam-packed with ingredients, vials, and other odds and ends.

"This is amazing," Hermione breathed as she looked into one of the self-stirring cauldrons. "I had no idea the shop was doing so well."

"Yeah. If business keeps up like this, we should have Gringotts paid off by. . ." Fred looked up and began calculating.

"Mid-September. We're planning a big push right before school begins, but that's not important. Right now we need to get you home."

Hermione spun around and saw that the twins were moving towards a flight of stairs. With the surprise of the attack and the mad run through the back streets of London, she had almost forgotten what was going on.

"Wait. What was all that back there? What were all those aurors doing there? And why -"

"We'll explain everything later," Fred soothed as he walked Hermione in front of himself and up the stairs. "But first we have to get to the Burrow."

Hermione bit her lip and glared icily at the twins, but followed along quietly. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway which straight ahead opened up onto the main floor of the shop and to the left it connected to the business office.

"Come on now," George said as Hermione walked through the office door. "We're heading into the home stretch, but we still need to hurry."

Fred picked up a jar from a table off to the side of the fireplace and held it out for the other two.

Taking a fist full of the floo powder, Hermione stepped into the hearth. "The Burrow," she called out clearly. Grates and other fires flashed by until Hermione stumbled out into the Weasley's living room.

"Ron, wake up this instant, or so help me, I'll - Oh, Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley came rushing out of the kitchen and pulled Hermione into a bone crunching hug. "I'm so glad you're here. I wasn't expecting you for another half hour, though. What happened?"

At that moment Fred and George stepped out of the fire.

"We'll explain everything in a moment, Mum."

"Did you save us any breakfast?" George asked rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"Boys," their mother rolled her eyes. "Honestly, they only think about one thing," Mrs. Weasley huffed as she turned and went to the kitchen.

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that," Fred laughed as he elbowed his brother who then winked at Hermione.

_It's so good to be back,_ Hermione thought as she followed the parade of redheads through the hall.

The kitchen table, though marred by years of many children's abuses, was inviting. Remnants of the morning meal were still waiting and the twins and Hermione sat down to a platter of muffins with pumpkin juice.

Mrs. Weasley bustled about cleaning and putting away dishes, making tea, and fussing over Hermione.

"I see that Fred and George were able to get you here all in one piece," Mrs. Weasley said as she sat down across the table to face Hermione. "But you look a bit edgy. Did something go wrong?"

"Well," Hermione began to toy with the teacup within her grip. "Now that you mention it, everything was a little odd, to me, anyway. I wasn't really expecting anyone to show up until noon at the earliest and certainly not these two," she said as she waved a hand at the twins who were too busy stuffing themselves on their mother's baking to notice. "There was something different about the portkey, as well."

"You used a portkey, but I thought you had your Apparation License, Hermione? Where did you end up?"

"Radnoirbalk Alley," Fred said, spraying crumbs to the table.

Mrs. Weasley gasped and brought a hand to her mouth. Radnoirbalk Alley was the most dangerous area in all of the magical parts of London. The crimes there were so dark and sinister they made Knockturn Alley's exploits seem like child's play.

"There was something a bit wonky with that portkey, now that you mention it," piped in George, trying to distract their mother. "Normally, it'd just hook you 'round the middle and give a tug."

"Not this on. It went all the way to your backbone and wouldn't let go. Very painful."

"But why Radnoirbalk Alley?" Mrs. Weasley asked undeterred.

"Well, firstly, why would anyone in their right mind go there and two those deviants who would be there wouldn't be up and about at this time in the morning to cause us any fuss," said Fred.

"What's so bad about this Radnoirbalk Alley, anyway? I've never heard of it," Hermione said throwing a questioning glare at the other table inhabitants.

"You should count yourself lucky that you've never heard about it," Ginny said softly as she came in through the kitchen door.

"Ginny!" Hermione squeaked and pulled the younger girl close for a sisterly hug. "Wow, you just keep getting taller! You're almost the same height as Fred and George."

Blushing, Ginny took the seat next to Hermione.

"Where were you, my darling sister? Did the ghoul chase you out again?" laughed Fred.

"No," she sneered at her older brother. "I was out . . . riding my broom. I need to get back in form for Monday." Mrs. Weasley and George both winked at her timely save.

"What's happening on Monday?"

"Oh, I'll tell you later," Ginny said. "Seriously though, only the most vile, loathsome criminals lurk around in Radnoirbalk."

"It's a miracle you made it out of there alive," Mrs. Weasley added solemnly.

"We almost didn't," whispered Hermione.

"WHAT!"

Fred and George both cringed and started to slide out of their chairs, hoping to disappear under the table, unnoticed.

"Alfred Gideon Weasley, George Fabian Weasley, explain yourselves. Now!"

"Well, you see, Mum - "

"It was sort of like - "

The twins delved into the morning's escapade. No detail was left unsaid – a few more were, indeed, added just to sweeten their own roles in the tale. Near the end, Mrs. Weasley leaped from her chair and brought Hermione into another of her inescapable hugs.

"Mrs. Weasley," came Hermione's muffled voice.

"Oh. So sorry, dear. It's just that. . . . Well," she breathed in a heavy sigh. "This was all Arthur's idea. You were supposed to be the distraction to draw the Death Eaters away so Harry could get to Grimmauld Place. I had no idea that it would've worked out like th-"

"Mum, do you have any headache tonic? My head's still pounding from - What are you doing here?" Ron exclaimed from the hall archway.

"Hello to you, as well," Hermione replied coolly.

Ron stood with a blank look in his eyes and his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. "But . . . but why are you here?" he walked further into the room his gaze never leaving Hermione's. "I mean - I thought that - "

"I invited her," Ginny said and calmly poured herself a cup of tea. "Since I'm leaving for Quidditch camp on Monday, I wanted her here before I left. Otherwise I wouldn't see her until . . . almost until the start of term."

"I still don't get how you got chosen for that camp anyway," Ron said as he walked over to Mrs. Weasley and took the potion she held out. He grimaced and made a face as the foul tasting liquid flowed down his throat. A moment later the tension and thundering eased within his skull.

"I mean," he waved his arms impatiently, trying to emphasize his position. "How does a little imp like you get to go, when I've never gotten a letter. Neither have any of our other Quidditch-playing brothers."

"Of course you wouldn't," Ginny laughed, not only to irritate her brother even more, but also out of nervousness. Ron was starting to poke too close at the truth. "It's only for girls. Can I help it if the Harpies make an effort to scout out future potential by helping talented young players? I'd complain to those Canons of yours and ask why they don't do the same."

Ron opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but quickly thought against it and remained silent. The glare he aimed at Ginny, however, became more heated.

"Well," Fred said, as he stood up from the table. "If that's all, we'll be heading to work now."

"Here you are Hermione," George reached into his pocket and removed the shrunken trunk and owl cage. "Feel free to drop in and check on the potions."

Once again Ron's mouth stood agape. Both twins broke out in rolling laughter and disappeared with two loud pops.

"What was George doing with your things?" Ron asked as he took a seat across from Hermione. Immediately he began to grab at the remainders of the breakfast.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's ill-concealed attempt to make her feel guilty and goad her into talking more. _Two can play that game_ she thought to herself. "He was just being gentlemanly. Something you wouldn't know anything about."

"What do you mean I don't know - "

The remainder of Ron and Hermione's banter went unheard by Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who had slipped out of the kitchen unnoticed. They had retreated into the living room, leaning against the wall and both were taking a preventative headache draught.

"WHAT!"

Ginny sighed and shook her head. "It's going to be a long day."

* * *

While one war was brewing over a kitchen table outside of Ottery St. Catchpole, somewhere in London another war was being discussed. Within the dimly lit basement kitchen of Grimmauld Place, five bodies were seated around the long table which had become cluttered rather quickly. Maps, reports, viewing globes, and other gadgets were spread out from one end to the other.

It had been almost two hours since Harry had sat down to the meeting and there was still so much left to discuss. They had already gone over the recent attack in Hull and also the ongoing investigations into the ones in Reading and Harrow. Remus had begun to debrief on his progress (or lack there of) with the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures committee.

"I'm telling you it's impossible," he said resentfully. "Half of them won't be happy until every half-human is licensed and registered like a house pet or criminal; while the others don't believe we're suggesting enough to protect either creature or human rights."

At the end of his rant Remus hung his head in defeat. Tonks leaned over, kissed him on his stress-lined cheek, and entwined her fingers with his.

Harry's mind had been wandering in and out of the meeting, until a flash of light caught his eye. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at Tonks' left hand. Both blushed all the way to the tips of their hair (Tonks' even changed from its bubble gum shade to a deep cherry.) "Don't waste much time, do you?"

"It's not like that - "

"It's more like an insurance policy - "

"So this old fool doesn't go and get himself killed," Tonks finished and gave Remus a look that was filled with both love and deadly promise.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore and saw his eyes twinkling above his half-moon glasses; whether it was from tears or just amusement from the new couple's antics was difficult to say.

"As we are on the topic of personal protections, I think we should discuss that of Harry and Miss Weasley," Dumbledore turned to face Harry. "Now, in your last letter, you said that she would be arriving here this Monday?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Moody told me that you wanted to use the rest of the summer break to learn more defenses. Do I have that right?" Harry nodded again. "If that's to be the case, I think it would be best if the two of you - " Dumbledore paused as a small barn owl flew out of the fireplace. It dropped a sheet of paper into his lap and flew off.

Opening the letter, the old professor's eyes dashed along the page and a small smile came across his face as he closed the letter. "It looks as though luck was on our side today. The auror's were able to capture four Death Eaters near Radnoirbalk Alley this morning; only one auror was seriously injured. Unfortunately, there were seven others who managed to escape."

"But that's still good, right? I mean, it's been awhile since there have been any good captures," Harry said hurriedly.

"Yes," said Moody as he rose from his seat and wandered over to the fireplace. "But it wasn't quite the sort of thing we were expecting."

"It was an ambush and we were completely unprepared," Mr. Weasley called as he stepped from the fire.

"Ah, Arthur, so good to see you," said Dumbledore and motioned for the other man to sit. Mr. Weasley took a chair near the other end of the table.

While Mr. Weasley began to recant what he had learned about the aurors and the Death Eaters interrogations, Harry was able to study him. With his recent appointment to Minister of Strategic Planning not only came the inevitable change in responsibility but other, more subtle ones as well. His red hair, which had been thinning for some time, was even thinner and was turning a gingery-gray; his eyes looked like they had been pulled into a guarded stare of deep thought. However, Mr. Weasley's wardrobe was smarter than he had seen before and Harry sincerely hoped that money had trickled down to the rest of the family.

"There was an unregistered portkey set for nine o'clock. That went off smoothly. Once the arrived in Radnoirbalk, the aurors moved out as they were supposed to, but there were ten Death Eaters waiting for them.

"Fred and George took Hermione - "

"What was Hermione doing in the middle of all this?" Harry asked, finally pulled out of his reverie.

"Well, she was your distraction," Mr. Weasley said quietly as he fidgeted nervously with his collar. "I thought the original number of guards needed for you would draw too much attention. So, when Hermione asked us to pick her up today, I knew it was just what we need. Good thing the twins were able to get her to their shop and flooed home. Molly said they all arrived safely – all in one piece - but I still got my ear chewed off for the attack."

"And Hermione's at the Burrow?"

"Yes, and she's unharmed like I said before."

Harry's mind skipped into overtime as he began to wonder if his friends had listened to his letters and how to move them into stage two when the fire once again erupted into vivid green flames.

"Ginny?" Moody asked as he reached into the fire.

Out of the flames stepped the lithe, redhead. As soon as she had regained her balance, Ginny rushed to the table and flung her arms around her father's neck.

"Oh Daddy, please, please, _please_ don't make me go back. I'll go stark raving mad if I have to say in that house a moment longer!"

"What's going on?" Mr. Weasley asked, disentangling himself from his daughter.

"It's awful," Ginny said as she got up to sit in Moody's empty chair to, Harry's left. "Ever since Hermione got there this morning, all she and Ron have done is bicker and argue. Right before I left, they were walking out to the garden. I think they may have gone off to have a duel, but. . . . _Please_ don't make me go back."

"Ginny, I don't know how - "

"Actually, Arthur," interrupted Dumbledore, "This would seem a perfect time for us to return to our earlier topic of how exactly these two are going to be looking after themselves in the coming weeks." Harry hazarded a glance at Ginny who boldly met his gaze with a conspiratorial spark in her eyes.

"There is no way we can afford to pull anyone off of patrol to watch over them," Moody grumbled, taking up a new seat at the table.

"I wasn't going to suggest a full-time guard, Alastor. Simply that there are certain measures that need to be taken."

"Sir, what about Godric's Hollow?" Harry said softly.

"What was that, Harry?"

"Godric's Hollow. Ginny and I could stay there for the rest of the summer. Voldemort wouldn't believe that I'd go back there. Not after what he had done."

"No, I doubt very much that he would. However, he does know where that location is. It wouldn't be safe. Perhaps Potter Manor; I don't believe that Pettigrew ever visited your father there and it is also an unplottable location."

"That's still no guarantee of safety," Lupin said. "Any secret keeper can be made to talk."

"I have a sneaking suspicion that this one would never reveal the secret," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his blue eyes started to shine brighter than before.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Tonks.

"There aren't many people that a dragon would tell tales to."

There was a collective gasp around the table and all eyes focused on Harry.

"A . . . a dragon?"

"Yes, Harry. How that I think of it, I believe you have even met her once. A feisty Hungarian Horntail. . . ."

Harry gulped as his eyes remained fixed upon Dumbledore's.

Yes, he remembered quite vividly his encounter with the Horntail during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. After that, Harry had hoped that would be the last time he would ever have to be that close to a dragon in his life. It seemed as though Fate was determined to hit as many rouge bludgers as possible his way.

Seeing the rigidness of his spine and the waves of anxiety that were coming from Harry, Ginny entwined her left hand in his right beneath the tabletop. Harry jerked in shock, but quickly recovered as all the stress and tension slowly ebbed and disappeared with Ginny's touch.

"I believe you have an appointment with your Gringotts advisor this Monday. While you're there, be sure to go to the Potter Family vault," Dumbledore said.

"Why the family vault?"

"Because that is where you'll find the dragon, guarding your family's treasures." Harry nodded mutely, his brain was beginning to spin as it was reaching overload with all that had happened so far in the day. "Well, we've gone through most of the important topics. Our next meeting will be Wednesday night, barring ant other developments."

With Dumbledore's dismissal, Tonks, Remus, and Moody headed for the fire and back to their work, leaving Dumbledore, Harry, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley sitting around the table.

"Now, back to what I was saying earlier. While normally I believe it very foolish to leave two young people to their own devices, in this case, it may not only be the exception, but a necessity."

"What exactly are you saying, Albus?" Mr. Weasley asked his brows furrowed.

"What I'm suggesting is that for Harry to succeed in the months to come, he will need to learn how to use his heart in addition to new skills. This would mean a minimal amount of influence from outsiders."

A somewhat awkward silence fell across the table for a few minutes until a delicate cough brought everyone back to the discussion at hand.

"About those new skills, sir," sighed Ginny. "It seems that my brothers have taken in into their thick skulls to become our teachers."

"As a matter of fact, that wouldn't be such a bad idea," Dumbledore paused and stroked his long, white beard.

Ginny's hand, however, now squeezed Harry's with an unthought-of strength. Even though her brothers had all agreed to support her, Ginny knew that if a chance were to present itself, they'd do all they could to give Harry a hard time.

_It'll all be alright, luv_, Harry thought as he hoped Ginny would loosen her deathgrip. As soon as he thought those simple words, she jerked her hand from his and looked at him with wide, brown eyes.

"On Mondays, Tuesday s, and Thursdays your brothers could take turns teaching. . . ."

_What just happened?_ thought Ginny, completely unaware of Dumbledore's words. _I could have sworn I heard Harry talk, but he never opened his mouth._

_That's because I didn't, I just thought it._ Harry's voice came through Ginny's mind once again, only now more clearly than before.

"Wednesdays would either be used for review or special lessons and on Fridays either I or one of the other Hogwarts teachers would test you to see how far you have progressed through the week. . . ."

_This is crazy, Harry. What's going on?_

_I don't know. This has never happened to me before, either._

"Does that sound reasonable to each of you?" Harry and Ginny both nodded. "Good. Now, once you've gone to Gringotts - "

"Wait, Professor," interrupted Harry. "How do you expect Ginny to be learning all of this if she hasn't received her Underage Waiver yet?"

Ginny nudged Harry's leg to get him to look at her and mouthed, _How did you know about that?_ Harry shrugged and was cut off from offering any further explanation.

"I have that with me, now that you mention it," Mr. Weasley said and pulled a thick, black leather portfolio from an inner pocket. "I would have had it sooner, but since Ginny is only fifteen and I'm now a minister, there was a lot more red tape to work through compared to yours, Harry. But here you are, dear." Mr. Weasley slid the folder down the table to Ginny, who immediately broke the seal and read the official letter from the Minister of Underage Wizards.

Miss Weasley:

The request of application UEW 6219A – Underage Wizardry Emancipation Waiver, has been approved. It is with the heaviest of hearts, however, that this right is granted, but given the state that our world is in, circumstances demand that we do all that we can to ensure the safety and well-being of younger generations.

Also included with your legal papers are those of Mr. Harry J. Potter – there is a shortage of Post Owls at the moment.

Alberta Gallagher

Minister of Underage Wizards.

Ginny's cheeks turned a soft pink as she removed an identical folder from within her own and passed it to Harry. "Here. I guess the Ministry is really trying to cut their expenses."

"Now that we have that matter settled, once you have finished your business in Diagon Alley this Monday, I think you should go straight to Potter Manor," Harry nodded, as Dumbledore pressed forward. "In that case you may borrow the Hogwarts' house elves again. I would like for the two of you to take it easy this coming week with your studies. I'll expect a stellar essay from you, Miss Weasley and I'll be seeing you both at the wedding, I suspect."

"Who's wedding?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten already," Ginny said exasperatedly. "Bill's and Phleg-er-Fleur's wedding, this Thursday. Actually, I'm kind of glad that I'll be staying here and not at home. Who can possibly remember how many people Fleur's invited by this point?"

"Yes, don't remind me, but your mother and I do expect you to be there. There's no telling what Fred and George might do in front of all those people," Mr. Weasley sighed as his forehead dropped into one of his hands, covering his eyes.

"I wouldn't worry so much about it, Dad. Either something will go wrong or it won't there's no point in thinking the worst. I have a feeling that those two won't do anything, you have my word."

Mr. Weasley snorted as he rose from his eat. "We'd sooner have a family member on one of the national quidditch teams, than I'd place my hopes on that promise."

Ginny bit her lip as a wave of laughter threatened to break through her resolve. Mr. Weasley had no idea how close to the truth he was getting.

"Ginny's right, Mr. Weasley. I'll guarantee that you'll have no incidents from Fred and George on the day of the wedding," Harry said as he too stood.

"Harry, if you could do that, you would be the greatest miracle worker in all of England. I should probably be getting back to the department now. I'm surprised that they've let me be away for this long without any owls." Mr. Weasley stepped into the fireplace and took a pink of floo powder from one of his pockets. "I'll have you mother send you trunk over later this evening, Ginny."

"Thanks, Dad. You know I love you, right?"

"I love you, too, pet. Head Office of Strategic Planning," the familiar green flash filled the fire and once it had cleared Mr. Weasley had disappeared.

* * *

Let's all pray that I get myself together and can finally finish out these next few scenes... 


End file.
